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■■•I 


« 1 


T 


BLACKFOOT    LODGE    TALES 


The  Story  of  a  Prairie  People 


BY 


GEORGE   BIRD   GRINNELL 


AuTHOi;  ov  "  Pawnee  Hero  Stories  and  Folk-Tales 


NEW   YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 

1892 


E 


COPYRIGHT,   1892,   BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


rt,s<»*'"r:*'^'^"r?2[™»-)>ife. 


? 


CONTENTS 


XOTE 

Indians  and  thkir  Stories 


PAGE 

vii 
ix 


J 


STORIES   OF  ADVENTURE 

The  Peace  with  itik  Snakes  . 
The  Losr  Woman      .... 
Adventures  ok  Blli,  Turns  Round 

KUTUYIS 

The  Bad  Wiee 

The  Lost  Children  .... 
Mik-a'i'I  —  Red  Old  Man 
Iii:A\v  Collar  and  the  Ghost  Woman 
The  Wole  Man         .... 
The  Fast  Runners    .... 
Two  War  Trails       .... 


3 

13 
H 
29 

39 

5° 
61 

70 

78 
81 
82 


STORIES  OF  ANCIENT   TIMES 


SCAKFACE       

()KI(;i\    OE    'ITIE    I-KUN-ril'-KAII-rSI 

Oricin  oe  the  Medicine  Pipe 
'I'liE  Beaver  Medicine 
I'liE  BuEFAi.o  Rock   . 
Origin  of  the  Worm  Pu'i. 
The  Ghosts'  Bufealo 


STORIES   OF  OLD   MAN 


The  Blackfoot  Genesis 
The  Doc;  and  the  Stick 
The  Bears 


m 


137 

145 
149 


iv  CONTENTS 

The  WondeiU'LI,  Bikd 
Tin:  Rack  .... 
The  Bad  \Vi:ai'ons    . 
The  Elk    .... 
Or,!)  Man  Doctors     . 
'1"MK  Rock  .... 
Ti[K  Tin;rr  from  the  Sun 
The  Rix     .... 
Old  Man  and  the  Lynx 


PAGE 

153 

157 
158 

165 
167 
169 
171 


THE  STORY  uF  THE    THREE    TRIBES. 

The  Past  and  ihe  Present 
Daily  Lht;  and  Customs  . 
I  low  the  Blackfoof  Livf;d 
SocL\L  Okoanization 
Huntinc.     .... 
The  Blackfoot  in  Wai^   . 
Religion     .... 
Medicine  Pipes  and  Healing 
The  Blackfoof  of  To-day 


177 
181 
196 
208 
226 
242 
256 
276 
287 


\ 


BLACKFOOT  -LODGE   TALES 


\ 


^^. 


We  were  sitting  about  the  fire  in  the  lodge  on  Two 
Medicine.  Double  Runner,  Small  Leggings,  Mad  Wolf,  and 
the  Little  Blackfoot  were  smoking  and  talking,  and  I  was 
writing  in  my  note-book.  As  I  put  aside  the  book,  and 
reached  out  my  hand  for  the  pipe.  Double  Runner  bent 
over  and  picked  up  a  scrap  of  printed  paper,  which  had 
fallen  to  the  ground.  He  looked  at  it  for  a  moment  with- 
out speaking,  and  then,  holding  it  up  and  calling  me  by 

name,  said  :  —  . 

"  Pi-uiif-i'i-xe  is-ts\m-okan,  this  is  education.  Here  is  the 
difference  between  you  and  me,  between  the  Indians  and 
the  white  people.  You  know  what  this  means.  I  do  not. 
If  I  did  know,  I  should  be  as  smart  as  you.  If  all  my 
people  knew,  the  white  people  would  not  always  get  the 

best  of  us." 

«  Nisah  (elder  brother) ,  your  words  are  true.  Therefore 
you  ought  to  see  that  your  children  go  to  school,  so  that 
they  may  get  the  white  man's  knowledge.  When  they  are 
men,  they  will  have  to  trade  with  the  white  people  ;  and  if 
they'  know  nothing,  they  can  never  get  rich.  The  times 
have  changed.  It  will  never  again  be  as  it  was  when  you 
and  I  were  young." 

"  You  say  well,  Pi-nut-u-ye  is-islm-okan,  I  have  seen  the 
days  ;  and  I  know  it  is  so.  The  old  things  are  passing  away, 
and  the  children  of  my  chil<lren  will  be  like  white  people. 
None  of  them  will  know  liow  it  used  to  be  in  their  father's 
days  unless  they  read  the  things  which  we  have  told  you,  and 
which  you  are  all  the  time  writing  down  in  your  books." 

"They  are  all  written  down,  N'lsah,  the  story  of  the  three 
tribes,  Sik-si-kau,  Kainah,  and  Pikuni." 


vu 


^ 


l>i) 


til; 


^ 


^ 


INDIANS   AND  THEIR  STORIES 


The  most  shame ""iil  chapter  of  American  history  is  that  in 
which  is  recorded  the  account  of  our  deahngs  with  the 
Indians.  The  story  of  our  government's  intercourse  with 
this  race  is  an  unbroken  narrative  of  injustice,  fraud,  and 
robbery.  Our  people  have  disregarded  honesty  and  truth 
whenever  they  have  come  in  contact  with  the  Indian,  and 
he  has  had  no  rights  because  he  has  never  had  the  power  to 
enforce  any. 

Protests  against  governmental  swindHng  of  these  savages 
have  been  made  again  and  again,  but  such  remonstrances 
attract  no  general  attention.  Almost  every  one  is  ready  to 
acknowledge  that  in  the  i)ast  the  Indians  have  been  shame- 
fully robbed,  but  it  appears  to  be  believed  that  this  no  longer 
takes  place.  This  is  a  great  mistake.  We  treat  them  now 
much  as  we  have  always  treated  them.  ^Vithin  two  years,  I 
have  been  present  on  a  reservation  where  government 
commissioners,  by  means  of  threats,  by  bribes  given  to 
chiefs,  and  by  casting  fraudulently  the  votes  of  absentees, 
succeeded  after  months  of  effort  in  securing  votes  enough 
to  warrant  them  in  asserting  that  a  tribe  of  Indians,  entirely 
wild  and  totally  ignorant  of  farming,  had  consented  to  sell 
their  lands,  and  to  settle  down  each  upon  i6o  acres  of  the 
most  utterly  arid  and  barren  land  to  be  found  on  the  North 
American  continent.  The  fraud  perpetrated  on  this  tribe 
was  as  gross  as  could  be  practised  by  one  set  of  men  upon 
another.  In  a  similar  way  the  Southern  Utes  were  recently 
induced  to  consent  to  give  up  their  reservation  for  another. 

ix 


X 


INDIANS    AND    THEIK    STORIES 


I- 


Americans  are  a  conscientious  people,  yet  they  take  no 
interest  in  tliese  frauds.  They  have  the  Anglo-Saxon  spirit 
of  foir  play,  which  sympathizes  with  weakness,  )-et  no  protest 
is  made  against  the  oppression  which  the  Indian  suffers. 
They  are  generous ;  a  (amine  in  Ireland,  Japan,  or  Russia 
arouses  the  sympathy  and  calls  forth  the  bounty  of  the 
nation,  yet  they  give  no  heed  to  the  distress  of  the  Indians, 
who  are  in  the  very  midst  of  them.  They  do  not  realize  that 
Indians  are  human  beings  like  themselves. 

For  this  state  of  things  there  nuist  be  a  reason,  and  this 
reason  is  to  be  found,  I  believe,  in  the  fact  that  practically 
no  one  has  any  personal  knowledge  of  the  Indian  race. 
The  few  who  are  acquainted  with  them  are  neither  writers 
nor  public  speakers,  and  for  the  most  part  would  find  it 
easier  to  break  a  horse  than  to  write  a  letter.  If  the  general 
])ublic  knows  little  of  this  rare,  those  who  legislate  about 
them  are  eijually  ignorant.  I''rom  the  congressional  page 
who  distributes  the  copies  of  a  pending  bill,  up  through  the 
representatives  and  senators  who  \-ote  for  it,  to  the  presi- 
dent whose  signature  makes  the  measure  a  law,  all  are 
entirely  unactpiainted  with  this  people  or  their  needs. 


Many  stories  about  Indians  have  been  written,  some  of 
which  are  interesting  and  some,  perhaps,  true.  All,  however, 
have  been  written  by  civilized  people,  and  h;.ve  thus  of 
necessity  been  misleading.  The  reason  for  this  is  plain. 
The  white  person  who  gives  his  idea  of  a  story  of  Indian  life 
inevitably  looks  at  things  from  the  civilized  point  of  view, 
and  assigns  to  the  Indian  such  motives  and  feelings  as 
govern  the  civilized  man.  But  often  the  feelings  which  lead 
an  Indian  to  perform  a  particular  action  are  not  those  which 
would  induce  a  white  man  to  do  the  same  thing,  or  if  they 
are,  the  train  of  reasoning  which  led  up  to  the  Indian's 
motive  is  not  the  reasoning  of  tlie  white  man. 


INDIANS    AND    THEIR    STORIES 


XI 


In  a  volume  about  the  Pawnees,^  I  endeavored  to  show 
liow  Indians  think  and  feel  by  letting  some  of  them  tell  their 
own  stories  in  their  own  fashion,  and  thus  explain  in  their 
own  way  how  they  look  at  the  every-day  occurrences  of 
their  life,  what  motives  govern  them,  and  how  they  reason. 

In  the  present  volume,  I  treat  of  another  race  of  Indians 
in  precisely  the  same  way.  I  give  the  Blackfnot  stories  as 
they  have  been  told  to  me  by  the  Indians  themselves,  not 
elaborating  nor  adding  to  them.  In  all  cases  except  one 
they  were  written  down  as  they  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  story- 
teller. Sometimes  I  have  transposed  a  sentence  or  two,  or 
have  added  a  few  words  of  explanation ;  but  the  stories  as 
here  given  are  told  in  the  words  of  the  original  narrators  as 
nearly  as  it  is  possible  to  render  those  words  into  the 
simplest  every-day  English.  These  are  Indians'  stories, 
pictures  of  Indian  life  drawn  by  Indian  artists,  and  showing 
this  life  from  the  Indian's  point  of  view.  I'hose  who  read 
these  stories  will  have  the  narratives  just  as  they  came  to  me 
from  the  lips  of  the  Indians  themselves ;  and  from  the  tales 
they  can  get  a  true  notion  of  the  real  man  who  is  speaking. 
He  is  not  the  Indian  of  the  newspapers,  nor  of  the  novel, 
nor  of  the  Eastern  sentimentalist,  nor  of  the  Western 
boomer,  but  the  real  Indian  as  he  is  in  his  daily  life  among 
his  own  people,  his  friends,  where  he  is  not  embarrassed  by 
the  presence  of  strangers,  nor  trying  to  produce  effects,  but 
is  himself — the  true,  natural  man. 

And  when  you  are  talking  with  your  Indian  friend,  as  you 
sit  beside  him  and  smoke  with  him  on  the  bare  prairie  dur- 
ing a  halt  in  the  day's  march,  or  at  night  lie  at  length  about 
your  lonely  camp  fire  in  the  mountains,  or  form  one  of  a 
circle  of  feasters  in  his  home  lodge,  you  get  very  near  to 
nature.  Some  of  the  sentiments  which  he  expresses  may 
horrify  your  civilized  mind,  but  they  are  not  unlike  those 
which  your  own  small  boy  might  utter.     The  Indian  talks  of 

1  Pawnee  H«ro  Stoiios  and  Folk-'Iales. 


Xll 


INDIANS    AND   THEIR   STORIES 


blood  and  wounds  and  death  in  a  commonplace,  matter-of- 
fact  way  that  may  startle  you.  But  these  things  used  to  be 
a  part  of  his  daily  life  ;  and  even  to-day  you  may  sometimes 
hear  a  dried-up,  palsied  survivor  of  the  ancient  wars  cackle 
out  his  shrill  laugh  when  he  tells  as  a  merry  jest,  a  blood- 
curdling story  of  the  torture  he  inflicted  on  some  enemy  in 
the  long  ago. 

I  have  elsewhere  expressed  my  views  on  Indian  character, 
the  conclusions  founded  on  an  acquaintance  with  this  race 
extending  over  more  than  twenty  years,  during  which  time  I 
have  met  many  tribes,  with  some  of  whom  I  have  lived  on 
terms  of  the  closest  intimacy. 

The  Indian  is  a  man,  not  very  different  from  his  white 
brother,  except  that  he  is  undeveloped.  In  his  natural  state 
he  is  kind  and  affectionate  in  his  family,  is  hospitable,  honest 
and  straightforward  with  his  fellows,  —  a  true  friend.  If  you 
are  his  guest,  the  best  he  has  is  at  your  disposal;  if  the 
camp  is  starving,  you  will  still  have  set  before  you  your  share 
of  what  food  there  may  be  in  the  lodge.  For  his  friend  he 
will  die,  if  need  be.  He  is  glad  to  perform  acts  of  kindness 
for  those  he  likes.  While  travelling  in  the  heats  of  summer 
over  long,  waterless  stretches  of  prairie,  I  have  had  an 
Indian,  who  saw  me  suffering  from  thirst,  leave  me,  without 
mentioning  his  errand,  and  ride  thirty  miles  to  fetch  me  a 
canteen  of  cool  water. 

The  Indian  is  intensely  religious.  No  people  pray  more 
earnestly  nor  more  frequently.  This  is  especially  true  of 
all  Indians  of  the  Plains. 

The  Indian  has  the  mind  and  feelings  of  a  child  with  the 
stature  of  a  man ;  and  if  this  is  clearly  understood  and  con- 
sidered, it  will  readily  account  for  much  of  the  bad  that  we 
hear  about  him,  and  for  many  of  the  evil  traits  which  are 
commonly  attributed  to  him.  Civilized  and  educated,  the 
Indian  of  the  better  class  is  not  less  inteUigent  than  the 
average  white  man,  and  he  has  every  capacity  for  becoming 
a  good  citizen. 


1 


INDIANS   AND   THEIR    STORIES 


Xlll 


This  is  the  view  held  not  only  by  myself,  but  by  all  of  the 
many  old  frontiersmen  that  I  have  known,  who  have  had 
occasion  to  live  much  among  Indians,  and  by  most  experi- 
enced army  officers.  It  was  the  view  held  by  my  friend 
and  schoolmate,  the  lamented  Lieutenant  Casey,  whose 
good  work  in  transforming  the  fierce  Northern  Cheyennes 
into  United  States  soldiers  is  well  known  among  all  officers 
of  the  army,  and  whose  sad  death  by  an  Indian  bullet  has 
not  yet,  I  believe,  been  forgotten  by  the  public. 


It  is  proper  that  something  should  be  said  as  to  how  this 
book  came  to  be  written. 

About  ten  years  ago,  Mr.  J.  W.  Schultz  of  Montana,  who 
was  then  living  in  the  Blackfoot  camp,  contributed  to  the 
columns  of  the  Forest  and  Stream,  under  the  title  "  Life 
among  the  Blackfeet,"  a  series  of  sketches  of  that  people. 
These  papers  seemed  to  me  of  unusual  interest,  and  worthy 
a  record  in  a  form  more  permanent  than  the  columns  of  a 
newspaper ;  but  no  opportunity  was  then  presented  for  filling 
in  the  outlines  given  in  them. 

Shortly  after  this,  I  visited  the  Pi-kun-i  tribe  of  the  Black- 
feet,  and  I  have  spent  more  or  less  time  in  their  camps  every 
year  since.  I  have  learned  to  know  well  all  their  principal 
men,  besides  many  of  the  Bloods  and  the  Blackfeet,  and 
have  devoted  much  time  and  effort  to  the  work  of  accumu- 
lating from  their  old  men  and  best  warriors  the  facts  bearing 
on  the  history,  customs,  and  oral  literature  of  the  tribe, 
which  are  presented  in  this  volume. 

In  1889  my  book  on  the  Pawnees  was  published,  and 
seemed  to  arouse  so  much  interest  in  Indian  life,  from  the 
Indian's  standpoint,  that  I  wrote  to  Mr.  Schultz,  urging  him, 
as  I  had  often  done  before,  to  put  his  observations  in  shape 
for  publication,  and  offered  to  edit  his  work,  and  to  see  it 
through  the  press.  Mr.  Schultz  was  unwilling  to  undertake 
this  task,  and  begged  me  to  use  all  the  material  which  I  had 


XIV 


INDIANS    AND    THEIR    STORIES 


liiiiK 


gathered,  and  whatever  he  could  supply,  in  the  preparation 
of  a  book  about  the  Blackfcet. 

A  portion  of  the  material  contained  in  these  pages  was 
originally  made  public  by  Mr.  Schultz,  and  he  was  thus  the 
discoverer  of  the .  literature  of  the  Blackfeet.  My  own 
investigations  have  made  me  familiar  with  all  the  stories  here 
recorded,  from  original  sources,  but  some  of  them  he  first 
publislied  in  the  columns  of  the  Forest  and  Stir ui)i.  For  this 
work  he  is  entitled  to  great  credit,  for  it  is  most  unusual  to 
find  any  one  living  the  rough  life  beyond  the  frontier,  and 
mingling  in  daily  intercourse  with  Indians,  who  has  the 
intelligence  to  study  their  traditions,  history,  and  customs, 
and  the  industry  to  reiluce  his  observations  to  writing. 

Besides  the  invaluable  assistance  given  me  by  Mr.  Schultz, 
I  acknowledge  with  gratitude  the  kindly  aid  of  Miss  Cora 
M.  Ross,  one  of  the  school  teachers  at  the  Blacktbot  agency, 
who  has  furnished  me  with  a  version  of  the  story  of  the  origin 
of  the  Medicine  Lodge;  and  of  Mrs.  Thomas  Dawson,  who 
gave  me  help  on  the  story  of  the  Lost  Children.  William 
Jackson,  an  educated  half  breed,  who  did  good  service  from 
1874  to  1879,  scouting  under  Generals  Custer  and  Miles, 
and  ^Villiam  Russell,  half-breed,  at  one  time  government 
interpreter  at  the  agency,  have  both  given  me  valuable 
assistance.  The  latter  has  always  placed  himself  at  my 
service,  when  I  needed  an  interpreter,  while  Mr.  Jackson  has 
been  at  great  pains  to  assist  me  in  securing  several  talcs 
which  I  might  not  otherwise  have  obtained,  and  has  uelped 
me  in  many  ways.  The  veteran  prairie  man,  Mr.  Hugh 
Monroe,  and  his  son,  John  Monroe,  have  also  given  me 
much  information.  Most  of  the  stories  I  owe  to  Blackfeet, 
Bloods,  and  Piegans  of  pure  race.  Some  of  these  men  hav  e 
died  within  the  past  few  years,  among  tiiem  the  kindly  and 
venerable  Red  Eagle;  Almost-a-l)og,  a  noble  old  man  who 
was  regarded  with  respect  and  affection  by  Indians  and 
whites;  and   that  matchless  orator,  Four   Bears.     Others, 


1;  1 


i 


INDIANS    AND    THEIR    STORIES 


XV 


still  living,  to  whom  I  owe  thanks,  are  Wolf  Calf,  Big  Nose, 
Heavy  Runner,  Young  Bear  Chief,  Wolf  Tail.  Rabid  Wolf, 
Running  Rabbit,  White  Calf,  AU-are-his-Children,  Double 
Runner,  Lone  Medicine  Person,  and  many  others. 

The  stories  here  given  cover  a  wide  range  of  subjects,  but 
are  fair  examples  of  the  oral  literature  of  the  Blackfeet. 
They  deal  with  religion,  the  origin  of  things,  the  perform- 
ances of  medicine  men,  the  bravery  and  single-heartedness 
of  warriors. 

It  will  be  observed  that  in  more  than  one  case  two  stories 
begin  in  the  same  way,  and  for  a  few  paragraphs  are  told  in 
language  which  is  almost  identical.  In  like  manner  it  is 
often  to  be  noted  that  in  different  stories  the  same  incidents 
occur.  This  is  all  natural  enough,  when  it  is  remembered 
that  the  range  of  the  Indians'  experiences  is  very  narrow. 
The  incidents  of  camp  life,  of  hunting  and  war  excursions, 
do  not  offer  a  very  wide  variety  of  conditions  ;  and  of  course 
the  stories  of  the  people  deal  chiefly  with  matters  with  which 
they  are  familiar.  They  are  based  on  the  every-day  life 
of  the  narrators. 

The  reader  of  these  Blackfoot  stories  will  not  fail  to 
notice  many  curious  resemblances  to  tales  told  among  other 
distant  and  different  peoples.  Their  similarity  to  those 
current  among  the  Ojibwas,  and  other  Eastern  Algonquin 
tribes,  is  sufficiently  obvious  and  altogether  to  be  expected, 
nor  is  it  at  all  remarkable  that  we  should  find,  among  the 
Blackfeet,  tales  identical  with  those  told  by  tribes  of  different 
stock  far  to  the  south  ;  but  it  is  a  litUe  startling  to  see  in  the 
story  of  the  ^Vorm  Pipe  a  close  parallel  to  the  classical  myth 
of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice.  In  another  of  the  stories  is  an 
incident  which  might  have  been  taken  bodily  from  the 
Odyssey. 

Well-equipped  students  of  general  folk-lore  will  find  in 
these  tales  much  to  interest  them,  and  to  such  may  be  left 
the  task  of  commenting  on  this  collection. 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


y  I 


ii?' 

1;i!i 
ii'>-ii 


THE   PEACE   WITH   THE   SNAKES 

I 

In  those  days  there  was  a  Piegan  chief  named  Owl  Bear. 
He  was  a  great  chief,  very  brave  and  generous.  One  night 
he  had  a  dream  :  he  saw  many  dead  bodies  of  the  enemy 
lying  about,  scalped,  and  he  knew  that  he  must  go  to  war. 
So  he  called  out  for  a  feast,  and  after  the  people  had  eaten, 
he  said  :  — 

"  I  had  a  strong  dream  last  night.  I  went  to  war  against 
the  Snakes,  and  killed  many  of  their  warriors.  So  the  signs 
are  good,  and  I  feel  that  I  must  go.  Let  us  have  a  big 
party  now,  and  I  will  be  the  leader.  We  will  start  to-mor- 
row night." 

Then  he  told  two  old  men  to  go  out  in  the  camp  and 
shout  the  news,  so  that  all  might  know.  A  big  party  was 
made  up.  Two  hundred  men,  they  say,  went  with  this  chief 
to  war.  The  first  night  they  travelled  only  a  little  way,  for 
they  were  not  used  to  walking,  and  soon  got  tired. 

In  the  morning  the  chief  got  up  early  and  went  and  made 
a  sacrifice,  and  when  he  came  back  to  the  others,  some 
said,  "  Come  now,  tell  us  your  dream  of  this  night." 

"  I  dreamed  good,"  said  Owl  Bear.  "  I  had  a  good 
dream.     We  will  have  good  luck." 

But  many  others  said  they  had  bad  dreams.  They  saw 
blood  running  from  their  bodies. 

Night  came,  and  the  party  started  on,  travelling  south, 
and  keeping  near  the  foot-hills ;  and  when  daylight  came, 
they  stopped  in  thick  pine  woods  and   built  war  lodges. 

3 


Hi 


11! 


4  STORIES    OF    ADVENTURK 

They  put  up  poles  as  for  a  lodge,  and  covered  them  very 
thick  with  pine  boughs,  so  they  could  build  fires  and  cook, 
and  no  one  would  see  the  light  and  smoke  ;  and  they  all  ate 
some  of  the  food  they  carried,  and  then  went  to  sleep. 

Again  the  chief  had  a  good  dream,  but  the  others  all  had 
bad  dreams,  and  some  talked  about  turning  back ;  but  Owl 
Bear  laughed  at  them,  and  when  night  came,  all  started  on. 
So  they  travelled  for  some  nights,  and  all  kept  dreaming 
bad  except  the  chief.  He  always  had  good  dreams.  One 
day  after  a  sleep,  a  person  again  asked  Owl  Bear  if  he 
dreamed  good.  "Yes,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  again  dreamed 
of  good  luck." 

"We  still  dream  bad,"  the  person  said,  "and  now  some 
of  us  are  going  to  turn  back.  We  will  go  no  further,  for 
bad  luck  is  surely  ahead."  "  CJo  back  !  go  back  ! "  said 
Owl  Bear,  "  I  think  you  are  cowards  ;  I  want  no  cowards 
with  me."  They  did  not  speak  again.  Many  of  them 
turned  around,  and  started  north,  toward  home. 

Two  more  days'  travel.  Owl  Bear  and  his  warriors  went 
on,  and  then  another  party  turned  back,  for  they  still  had 
bad  dreams.  All  the  men  now  left  with  him  were  his  rela- 
tions.    All  the  others  had  turned  back. 

They  travelled  on,  and  travelled  on,  always  having  bad 
dreams,  until  they  came  close  to  the  l-^lk  River.'  Then  the 
oldest  relation  said^  "  Come,  my  chief,  let  us  all  turn  back. 
We  still  have  bad  dreams.     We  cannot  have  good  luck." 

"  No,"  replied  Owl  Bear,  "  I  will  not  turn  back." 

Then  they  were  going  to  seize  him  and  tie  his  hands,  fur 
they  had  talked  of  this  before.  They  thought  to  tie  him 
and  make  him  go  back  with  them.  Then  the  chief  got  very 
angry.  He  put  an  arrow  on  his  bow,  and  said  :  "  Do  not 
touch  me.  You  are  my  relations ;  but  if  any  of  you  try  to 
tie  me,  I  will  kill  you.  Now  I  am  ashamed.  My  relations 
are  cowards  and  will  turn  back.      I  have  told  you  I  have 

1  Yellowstone  River. 


lis! 


TIIK    PF.ACK    WITH    THE    SNAKES 


s 


always  dreameil  good,  and  that  we  would  have  good  luck. 
Now  I  don't  care  ;  I  am  covered  with  shame.  I  am  going 
now  to  the  Snake  camp  and  will  give  them  my  body.  I  am 
ashamed,  (lo!  go!  and  when  you  get  home  put  on 
women's  dresses.     You  are  no  longer  men." 

They  said  no  more.  They  turned  back  homeward,  and 
the  chief  was  all  alone.  His  heart  was  very  sad  as  he 
travelled  on,  and  he  was  much  ashamed,  for  his  relations 
had  left  him. 

II 

Night  was  coming  on.  The  sun  had  set  and  rain  was 
beginning  to  fall.  Owl  Bear  looked  around  for  some  place 
where  he  could  sleep  dry.  Close  by  he  saw  a  hole  in  the 
rocks.  He  got  down  on  his  hands  and  knees  and  crept  in. 
Here  it  was  very  dark.  He  could  see  nothing,  so  he  crept 
very  slowly,  feeling  as  he  went.  All  at  once  his  hand  touched 
something  strange.  He  felt  of  it.  It  was  a  person's  foot, 
and  there  was  a  moccasin  on  it.  He  stopped,  and  sat  still. 
Then  he  felt  a  little  further.  Yes,  it  was  a  person's  leg.  He 
could  feel  the  cowskin  legging.  Now  he  did  not  know  what 
to  do.  He  thought  perhaps  it  was  a  dead  person ;  and 
again,  he  thought  it  might  be  one  of  his  relations,  who  had 
become  ashamed  and  turned  back  after  him. 

Pretty  soon  he  put  his  hand  on  the  leg  again  and  felt 
along  up.  He  touched  the  person's  belly.  It  was  warm. 
He  felt  of  the  breast,  and  could  feel  it  rise  and  fall  as  the 
breath  came  and  went ;  and  the  heart  was  beating  fast.  Still 
the  person  did  not  move.  Maybe  he  was  afraid.  Perhaps 
he  thought  that  was  a  ghost  feeling  of  him. 

Owl  Bear  now  knew  this  person  was  not  dead.  He 
thought  he  would  try  if  he  could  learn  who  the  man  was, 
for  he  was  not  afraid.  His  heart  was  sad.  His  people  and 
his  relations  had  left  him,  and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
give  his  body  to  the  Snakes.     So  he  began  and  felt  all  over 


STORIES    or    AnVF.NTURK 


II 


the  man,  —  of  his  face,  hair,  robe,  leggings,  belt,  weapons ; 
and  by  and  by  he  stopped  feeling  of  him.  He  could  not 
tell  whether  it  was  one  of  his  people  or  not. 

Pretty  soon  the  strange  person  sat  up  and  felt  all  over 
Owl  Bear;  and  when  he  had  finished,  he  took  the  Piegan's 
hand  and  opened  it  and  held  it  up,  waving  it  from  side  to 
side,  saying  by  signs,  "  Who  are  you? " 

Owl  Bear  put  his  closed  hand  against  the  person's  cheek 
and  rubbed  it ;  he  said  in  signs,  "  Piegan  !  "  and  then  he 
asked  the  person  who  he  was.  A  finger  was  placed  against 
his  breast  and  moved  across  it  zigzag.  It  was  the  sign  for 
"  Snake." 

"  Bat  yah  f'  thought  Owl  Bear,  "  a  Snake,  my  enemy." 
For  a  long  time  he  sat  still,  thinking.  By  and  by  he  drew 
his  knife  from  his  belt  and  placed  it  in  the  Snake's  hand, 
and  signed,  "  Kill  me  !  "  He  waited.  He  thought  soon  his 
heart  would  be  cut.  He  wanted  to  die.  Why  live?  His 
people  had  left  him. 

Then  the  Snake  took  Owl  Bear's  hand  and  put  a  knife  in 
it  and  motioned  that  Owl  Bear  should  cut  his  heart,  but  the 
Piegan  would  not  do  it.  He  lay  down,  and  the  Snake  lay 
down  beside  him.     Maybe  they  slept.     Likely  not. 

So  the  night  went  and  morning  came.  It  was  light,  and 
they  crawled  out  of  the  cave,  and  talked  a  long  time 
together  by  signs.  Owl  Bear  told  the  Snake  where  he 
had  come  from,  how  his  party  had  dreamed  bad  and  left 
him,  and  that  he  was  going  alone  to  give  his  body  to  the 
Snakes. 

Then  the  Snake  said  :  "  I  was  going  to  war,  too.  I  was 
going  against  the  Piegans.  Now  I  am  done.  Are  you  a 
chief?" 

"  I  am  the  head  chief,"  replied  Owl  Bear.  "  I  lead.  All 
the  others  follow." 

"  I  am  the  same  as  you,"  said  the  Snake.  "  I  am  the 
chief.    I  like  you.    You  are  brave.    You  gave  me  your  knife 


THE  PEACE  WITH  THE  SNAKES  7 

to  kill  you  with.  How  is  your  heart?  Shall  the  Snakes  and 
the  Piegans  make  peace?" 

"  Your  words  are  good,"  replied  Owl  Bear.    "  I  am  glad." 

"  How  many  nights  will  it  take  you  to  go  home  and  come 
back  here  with  your  people?"  asked  the  Snake. 

Owl  Bear  thought  and  counted.  "  In  twenty-five  nights," 
he  replied,  "  the  Piegans  will  camp  down  by  that  creek." 

"  My  trail,"  said  the  Snake,  "  goes  across  the  mountains. 
I  will  try  to  be  here  in  twenty- five  nights,  but  I  will  camp 
with  my  people  just  behind  that  first  mountain.  When  you 
get  here  with  the  Piegans,  come  with  one  of  your  wives  and 
stay  all  night  with  me.  In  the  morning  the  Snakes  will  move 
and  put  up  their  lodges  beside  the  Piegans." 

"As  you  say,"  replied  the  chief,  "so  it  shall  be  done," 
Then  they  built  a  fire  and  cooked  some  meat  and  ate  to- 
gether. 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  go  home,"  said  Owl  Bear.  "  I  have 
taken  no  horses,  no  scalps.  Let  me  cut  off  your  side 
locks?" 

"  Take  them,"  said  the  Snake. 

Owl  Bear  cut  off  the  chief's  braids  close  to  his  head,  and 
then  the  Snake  cut  off  the  Piegan's  braids.  Then  they 
exchanged  clothes  and  weapons  and  started  out,  the  Piegan 
north,  the  Snake  south. 


.1 


III 

"  Owl  Bear  has  come  !  Owl  Bear  has  come  !  "  the  people 
were  shouting. 

The  warriors  rushed  to  his  lodge.  IVhish  !  how  quickly 
it  was  filled  !  Hundreds  stood  outside,  waiting  to  hear  the 
news. 

For  a  long  time  the  chief  did  not  speak.  He  was  still 
angry  with  his  people.  An  old  man  was  talking,  telling  the 
news  of  the  camp.     Owl  Bear  did  not  look  at  him.     He  ate 


8 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


^  \ 


some  food  and  rested.  Many  were  in  the  lodge  who  had 
started  to  war  with  him.  They  were  now  ashamed.  They 
did  not  speak,  either,  but  kept  looking  at  the  fire.  After  a 
long  time  the  chief  said  :  "  I  travelled  on  alone.  I  met 
a  Snake.  I  took  his  scalp  and  clothes,  and  his  weapons. 
See,  here  is  his  scalp  !  "  And  he  held  up  th?  two  braids  of 
hair. 

No  one  spoke,  but  the  chief  saw  them  nudge  each  other 
and  smile  a  little  ;  and  soon  they  went  out  and  said  to  one 
another  :  "  What  a  lie  !  That  is  not  an  enemy's  scalp  ;  there 
is  no  flesh  on  it.     He  has  robbed  some  dead  person." 

Some  one  told  the  chief  what  they  said,  but  he  only 
laughed  and  replied  :  — 

"  I  do  not  care.  They  were  too  much  afraid  even  to  go 
on  and  rob  a  dead  person.  They  should  wear  women's 
dresses." 

Near  sunset.  Owl  Bear  called  for  a  horse,  and  rode  all 
through  camp  so  every  one  could  hear,  shouting  out : 
"  Listen  !  listen  !  To-morrow  we  move  camp.  We  travel 
south.  The  Piegans  and  Snakes  are  going  to  make  peace. 
If  any  one  refuses  to  go,  I  will  kill  him.      All  must  go." 

Then  an  old  medicine  man  came  up  to  him  and  said  : 
"HCyi,  Owl  Bear!  listen  to  me.  Why  talk  like  this?  You 
know  we  are  not  afraid  of  the  Snakes.  Have  we  not  fought 
them  and  driven  them  out  of  this  country?  Do  you  think 
we  are  afraid  to  go  and  meet  them?  No.  We  will  go  and 
make  peace  with  them  as  you  say,  and  if  they  want  to  fight, 
we  will  fight.  Now  you  are  angry  with  those  who  started 
to  war  with  you.  Don't  be  angry.  Dreams  belong  to  the 
Sun.  He  gave  them  to  us,  so  that  we  can  see  ahead  and 
know  what  will  happen.  The  Piegans  are  not  cowards. 
Their  dreams  told  them  to  turn  back.  So  do  not  be  angry 
with  them  any  more." 

"There  is  truth  in  what  you  say,  old  man,"  rejjlied  Owl 
Bear  ;  "  I  will  take  your  words." 


THE  PEACE  WITH  THE  SNAKES 


IV 


In  those  days  the  Piegans  were  a  great  tribe.  When  they 
travelled,  if  you  were  with  the  head  ones,  you  could  not  see 
the  last  ones,  they  were  so  tar  back.  They  had  more 
horses  than  they  could  count,  so  they  used  fresh  horses 
every  day  and  travelled  very  fast.  On  the  twenty-fourth 
day  they  reached  the  place  where  Owl  Bear  had  told  the 
Snake  they  would  camp,  and  put  up  their  lodges  along  the 
creek.  Soon  some  young  men  came  in,  and  said  they  had 
seen  some  fresh  horse  trails  up  toward  the  mountain. 

"It  must  be  the  Snakes,"  said  the  chief;  "they  have 
already  arrived,  although  there  is  yet  one  night."  So  he 
called  one  of  his  wives,  and  getting  on  their  horses  they  set  out 
to  find  the  Snake  camp.  They  took  the  trail  up  over  the 
mountain,  and  soon  came  in  sight  of  the  lodges.  It  was  a 
big  camp.  Every  open  place  in  the  valley  was  covered  with 
lodges,  and  the  hills  were  dotted  with  horses  ;  for  th'i  Snakes 
had  a  great  many  more  horses  than  the  Piegans. 

Some  of  the  Snakes  saw  the  Piegans  coming,  and  they 
ran  to  the  chief,  saying :  "  Two  strangers  are  in  sight, 
coming  this  way.     What  shall  be  done? " 

"Do  not  harm  them,"  replied  the  chief.  "They  are 
friends  of  mine.  I  have  been  expecting  them."  Then  the 
Snakes  wondered,  for  the  chief  had  told  them  nothing 
about  his  war  trip. 

Now  when  Owl  Bear  had  come  to  the  camp,  he  asked  in 
signs  for  the  chiefs  lodge,  and  they  pointed  him  to  one  in 
the  middle.  It  was  small  and  old.  The  Piegan  got  off  his 
horse,  and  the  Snake  chief  came  out  and  hugged  him  and 
kissed  him,  and  said  :  "  I  am  glad  you  have  come  to-day 
to  my  lodge.  So  are  my  people.  You  are  tired.  Enter 
my  lodge  and  we  will  eat."  So  they  went  inside  and 
many  of  the  Snakes  came  in,  and  they  had  a  great  feast. 

Then  the  Snake  chief  told  his  people  how  he  had   met 


k:'. 


lO 


STORIES   OF    ADVENTURE 


the  Piegan,  and  how  brave  he  was,  and  that  now  they  were 
going  to  make  a  great  peace ;  and  he  sent  some  men  to  tell 
the  people,  so  that  they  would  be  ready  to  move  camp  in 
the  morning.  Evening  came.  Everywhere  people  were 
shouting  out  for  feasts,  and  the  chief  took  Owl  Bear  to 
them.  It  was  very  late  when  they  returned.  Then  the 
Snake  had  one  of  his  wives  make  a  bed  at  the  back  of  the 
lodge  ;  and  when  it  was  ready  he  said  :  "  Now,  my  friend, 
there  is  your  bed.  This  is  now  your  lodge ;  also  the 
woman  who  made  the  bed,  she  is  now  your  wife ;  also 
everything  in  this  lodge  is  yours.  The  parfleches,  saddles, 
food,  robes,  bowls,  everything  is  yours.  I  give  them  to  you 
because  you  are  my  friend  and  a  brave  man." 

"  You  give  me  too  much,"  replied  Owl  Bear.  "  I  am 
ashamed,  but  I  take  your  words.  I  have  nothing  with  me 
but  one  wife.     She  is  yours." 

Next  morning  camp  was  broken  early.  The  horses  were 
driven  in,  and  the  Snake  chief  gave  Owl  Bear  his  whole 
band,  —  two  hundred  head,  all  large,  powerful  horses. 

All  were  now  ready,  and  the  chiefs  started  ahead.  Close 
behind  them  were  all  the  warriors,  hundreds  and  hundreds, 
and  last  came  the  women  and  children,  and  the  young  men 
driving  the  loose  horses.  As  they  came  in  sight  of  the 
Piegan  camp,  all  the  warriors  started  out  to  meet  them, 
dressed  in  their  war  costumes  and  singing  the  great  war 
song.  There  was  no  wind,  and  the  sound  came  across  the 
valley  and  up  the  hill  like  the  noise  of  thunder.  Then  the 
Snakes  began  to  sing,  and  thus  the  two  parties  advanced. 
At  last  they  met.  The  Piegans  turned  and  rode  beside 
them,  and  so  they  came  to  the  camp.  Then  they  got  off 
their  horses  and  kissed  each  other.  Every  Piegan  asked  a 
Snake  into  his  lodge  to  eat  and  rest,  and  the  Snake  women 
put  up  their  lodges  beside  the  Piegan  lodges.  So  the  great 
peace  was  made. 

In  Owl  Bear's  lodge  there  was  a  great  feast,  and  when 


THE    PEACE    WITH    THE    SNAKES 


II 


they  had  finished  he  said  to  his  people  :  "  Here  is  the  man 
whose  scalp  I  took.  Did  I  say  I  killed  him  ?  No.  I  gave 
him  my  knife  and  told  him  to  kill  me.  He  would  not  do  it ; 
and  he  gave  me  his  knife,  but  I  would  not  kill  him.  So  we 
talked  together  what  we  should  do,  and  now  we  have  made 
peace.  And  now  (turning  to  the  Snake)  this  is  your  lodge, 
also  all  the  things  in  it.  My  horses,  too,  I  give  you.  All 
are  yours." 

So  it  was.  The  Piegan  took  the  Snake's  wife,  lodge,  and 
horses,  and  the  Snake  took  the  Piegan's,  and  they  camped 
side  by  side.  All  the  people  camped  together,  and  feasted 
each  other  and  made  presents.     So  the  peace  was  made. 


For  many  days  they  camped  side  by  side.  The  young 
men  kept  hunting,  and  the  women  were  always  busy  drying 
meat  and  tanning  robes  and  cowskins.  Buffalo  were  always 
close,  and  after  a  while  the  people  had  all  the  meat  and 
robes  they  could  carry.  Then,  one  day,  the  Snake  chief  said 
to  Owl  Bear  :  "  Now,  my  friend,  we  have  camped  a  long 
time  together,  and  I  am  glad  we  have  made  peace.  We  have 
dug  a  hole  in  the  ground,  and  in  it  we  have  put  our  anger 
and  covered  it  up,  so  there  is  no  more  war  between  us. 
And  now  I  think  it  time  to  go.  To-morrow  morning  the 
Snakes  break  camp  and  go  back  south." 

"  Your  words  are  good,"  replied  Owl  Bear.  "  I  too  am 
glad  we  have  made  this  peace.  You  say  you  must  go  south, 
and  I  feel  lonesome.  I  would  like  you  to  go  with  us  so  we 
could  camp  together  a  long  time,  but  u  say,  so  it  shall 

be  done.  To-morrow  you  will  start  south.  I  too  shall  break 
camp,  for  I  would  be  lonesome  here  without  you ;  and  the 
Piegans  will  start  in  the  home  direction." 

The  lodges  were  being  taken  down  and  packed.  The 
men  sat  about  the  fireplaces,  taking  a  last  smoke  together. 


1 


12 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


I 


They  were  now  great  friends.  Many  Snakes  had  married 
Piegan  women,  and  many  Piegans  had  married  Snake 
women.  At  last  all  was  ready.  The  great  chiefs  mounted 
their  horses  and  started  out,  and  soon  both  parties  were 
strung  out  on  the  trail. 

Some  young  men,  however,  stayed  behind  to  gamble  a 
while.  It  was  yet  early  in  the  morning,  and  by  riding  fast 
it  would  not  take  them  long  to  catch  up  with  their  camps. 
All  day  they  kept  playing  ;  and  sometimes  the  Piegans  would 
win,  and  sometimes  the  Snakes. 

It  was  now  almost  sunset..  "  Let  us  have  one  horse  race," 
they  said,  "  and  we  will  stop."  Each  side  had  a  good 
horse,  and  they  ran  their  best ;  but  they  came  in  so  close 
together  it  could  not  be  told  who  won.  The  Snakes  claimed 
that  their  horse  won,  and  the  Piegans  would  not  allow  it. 
So  they  got  angry  and  began  to  quarrel,  and  pretty  soon  they 
began  to  fight  and  to  shoot  at  each  other,  and  some  were 
killed. 

Since  that  time  the  Snakes  and  Piegans  have  never  been 
at  peace. 


THE   LOST   WOMAN 


A  LONG  time  ago  the  Blackfeet  were  camped  on  Backfat 
Creek.  There  was  in  the  camp  a  man  who  had  but  one 
wife,  and  he  thought  a  great  deal  of  her.  He  never  wanted 
to  have  two  wives.  As  time  passed  they  had  a  child,  a  little 
girl.  Along  toward  the  end  of  the  summer,  this  man's  wife 
wanted  to  get  some  berries,  and  she  asked  her  husband  to 
take  her  to  a  certain  place  where  berries  grew,  so  that  she 
could  get  some.  The  man  said  to  his  wife  :  "At  this  time 
of  the  year,  I  do  not  like  to  go  to  that  place  to  pick  berries. 
There  are  always  Snake  or  Crow  war  parties  travelling  about 
there."  The  woman  wanted  very  much  to  go,  and  she 
coaxed  her  husband  about  it  a  great  deal ;  and  at  last  he 
said  he  would  go,  and  they  started,  and  many  women 
followed  them. 

When  they  came  to  where  the  berries  grew,  the  man  said 
to  his  wife  :  "  There  are  the  berries  down  in  that  ravine. 
You  may  go  down  there  and  pick  them,  and  I  will  go  up 
on  this  hill  and  stand  guard.  If  I  see  any  one  coming,  I 
will  call  out  to  you,  and  you  must  all  get  on  your  horses 
and  run."     So  the  women  went  down  to  pick  berries. 

The  man  went  up  on  the  hill  and  sat  down  and  looked  over 
the  country.  After  a  little  time,  he  looked  down  into 
another  ravine  not  far  off,  and  saw  that  it  was  full  of  horse- 
men coming.  They  started  to  gallop  up  towards  him,  and  he 
called  out  in  a  loud  voice,  "  Run,  run,  the  enemy  is  rushing 
on  us."    The  women  started  to  run,  and  he  jumped  on  his 

13 


14 


STORIES    OF    ADVF.N'TURE 


I 


horse  and  followed  them.  The  enemy  rushed  after  them, 
and  he  drew  his  bow  and  arrows,  and  got  ready  to  fight 
and  defend  the  women.  After  they  had  gone  a  little  way, 
the  enemy  had  gained  so  much  that  they  were  shooting  at 
the  Blackfeet  with  their  arrows,  and  the  man  was  riding 
back  and  forth  behind  the  women,  and  whipping  up  the 
horses,  now  of  one,  now  of  another,  to  make  them  go  faster. 
The  enemy  kept  getting  closer,  and  at  last  they  were  so 
near  that  they  were  beginning  to  thrust  at  him  with  their 
lances,  and  he  was  dodging  them  and  throwing  himself 
down,  now  on  one  side  of  his  horse,  and  then  on  the  other. 

At  length  he  found  that  he  could  no  longer  defend  all  the 
women,  so  he  made  up  his  mind  to  leave  those  that  had  the 
slowest  horses  to  the  mercy  of  the  enemy,  while  he  would  go 
on  with  those  that  had  the  faster  ones.  When  he  found  that 
he  must  leave  the  women,  he  was  excited  and  rode  on  ahead  ; 
but  as  he  passed,  he  heard  some  one  call  out  to  him,  "  Don't 
leave  me,"  and  he  looked  to  one  side,  and  saw  that  he  was 
leaving  his  wife.  When  he  heard  his  wife  call  out  thus  to 
him,  he  said  to  her :  "There  is  no  life  for  me  here.  You  are 
a  fine-looking  woman.  They  will  not  kill  you,  but  there  is 
no  Hfe  for  me."  She  answered  :  "  No,  take  pity  on  me.  Do 
not  leave  me.  My  horse  is  giving  out.  Let  us  both  get  on 
one  horse  and  then,  if  we  are  caught,  we  will  die  together." 
When  he  heard  this,  his  heart  was  touched  and  he  said  :  "  No, 
wife,  I  will  not  leave  you.  Run  up  beside  my  horse  and  jump 
on  behind  me."  The  enemy  were  now  so  near  that  they  had 
killed  or  captured  some  of  the  women,  and  they  had  come 
up  close  enough  to  the  man  so  that  they  got  ready  to  hit  at 
him  with  their  war  clubs.  His  horse  was  now  wounded  in 
places  with  arrows,  but  it  was  a  good,  strong,  fast  horse. 

His  wife  rode  up  close  to  him,  and  jumped  on  his  horse 
behind  him.  When  he  started  to  run  with  her,  the  enemy 
had  come  up  on  either  side  of  him,  and  some  were  behind 
him,  but  they  were  afraid  to  shoot  their  arrows  for  fear  of 


THE    LOST    WOMAN 


15 


hitting  their  own  people,  so  they  struck  at  the  man  with  their 
war  clubs.  But  they  did  not  want  to  kill  the  woman,  and 
they  did  not  hurt  him.  They  reached  out  with  their  hands 
to  try  to  pull  the  woman  off  the  horse ;  but  she  had  put  her 
arms  around  her  husband  and  held  on  tight,  and  they  could 
not  get  her  off,  but  they  tore  her  clothing  off  her.  As  she 
held  her  husband,  he  could  not  use  his  arrows,  and  could 
not  fight  to  defend  himself.  His  horse  was  now  going  very 
slowly,  and  all  the  enemy  had  caught  up  to  them,  and 
were  all  around  them. 

The  man  said  to  his  wife :  "  Never  mind,  let  them  take  you  : 
they  will  not  kill  you.  You  are  too  handsome  a  woman  for 
them  to  kill  you."  His  wife  said,  "  No,  it  is  no  harm  for  us 
both  to  die  together."  When  he  saw  that  his  wife  would  not 
get  off  the  horse  and  that  he  could  not  fight,  he  said  to  her : 
"  Here,  look  out !  You  are  crowding  me  on  to  the  neck  of 
the  horse.  Sit  further  back."  He  began  to  edge  himself 
back,  and  at  last,  when  he  got  his  wife  pretty  far  back  on  the 
horse,  he  gave  a  great  push  and  shoved  her  off  behind. 
When  she  fell  off,  his  horse  had  more  speed  and  began  to  run 
away  from  the  enemy,  and  he  would  shoot  back  his  arrows ; 
and  now,  when  they  would  ride  up  to  strike  him  with  their 
hatchets,  he  would  shoot  them  and  kill  them,  and  they  began 
to  be  afraid  of  him,  and  to  edge  away  from  him.  His  horse 
was  very  long-winded  ;  and  now,  as  he  was  drawing  away  from 
the  enemy,  there  were  only  two  who  were  yet  able  to  keep 
up  with  him.  The  rest  were  being  left  behind,  and  they 
stopped,  and  went  back  to  where  the  others  had  killed  or 
captured  the  women  ;  and  now  only  two  men  were  pursuing. 

After  a  little  while,  the  Blackfoot  jumped  off  his  horse  to 
fight  on  foot,  and  the  two  enemies  rode  up  on  either  side  of 
him,  but  a  long  way  off,  and  jumped  off  their  horses.  When 
he  saw  the  two  on  either  side  of  him,  he  took  a  sheaf  of 
arrows  in  his  hand  and  began  to  rush,  first  toward  the  one 
on  the  right,  and  then  toward  the  one  on  the  left.     As  he 


i6 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


r 


did  this,  he  saw  that  one  of  the  men,  when  he  ran  toward  him 
and  threatened  to  shoot,  would  draw  away  from  him,  while 
the  other  would  stand  still.  Then  he  knew  that  one  of  them 
was  a  coward  and  the  other  a  brave  man.  But  all  the  time 
they  were  closing  in  on  him.  AVhen  he  saw  that  they  were 
closing  in  on  him,  he  made  a  rush  at  the  brave  man.  This 
one  was  shooting  arrows  all  the  time  ;  but  the  Blackfoot  did 
not  shoot  until  he  got  close  to  him,  and  then  he  shot  an 
arrow  into  him  and  ran  up  to  him  and  hit  him  with  his  stone 
axe  and  killed  him.  Then  he  turned  to  the  cowardly  one 
and  ran  at  him.  The  man  turned  to  run,  but  the  Blackfoot 
caught  him  and  hit  him  with  his  axe  and  killed  him. 

After  he  had  killed  them,  he  scalped  them  and  took  their 
arrows,  their  horses,  and  the  stone  knives  that  they  had. 
Then  he  went  home,  and  when  he  rode  into  the  camp  he  was 
crying  over  the  loss  of  his  wife.  When  he  came  to  his  lodge 
and  got  off  his  horse,  his  friends  went  up  to  him  and  asked 
what  was  the  matter.  He  told  them  how  all  the  women 
had  been  killed,  and  how  he  had  been  pursued  by  two  enemies, 
and  had  fought  with  them  and  killed  them  both,  and  he 
showed  them  the  arrows  and  the  horses  and  the  scalps.  He 
told  the  women's  relations  that  they  had  all  been  killed ;  and  all 
were  in  great  sorrow,  and  crying  over  the  loss  of  their  friends. 

The  next  morning  they  held  a  council,  and  it  was  decided 
that  a  party  should  go  out  and  see  where  the  battle  had  been, 
and  find  out  what  had  become  of  the  women.  When  they 
got  to  the  place,  they  found  all  the  women  there  dead,  except 
this  man's  wife.  Her  they  could  not  find.  They  also  found 
the  two  Indians  that  the  man  had  said  that  he  had  killed, 
and,  besides,  many  others  that  he  had  killed  when  he  was  run- 
ning away. 

II 

When  he  got  back  to  the  camp,  this  Blackfoot  picked  up 
his  child  and  put  it  on  his  back,  and  walked  round  the  camp 


THE    LOST    WOMAN 


17 


mourning  and  crying,  and  the  child  crying,  for  four  days  and 
four  nights,  until  he  was  exhausted  and  worn  out,  and  then 
he  fell  asleep.  When  the  rest  of  the  people  saw  him  walking 
about  mourning,  and  that  he  would  not  eat  nor  drink,  their 
hearts  were  very  sore,  and  they  felt  very  sorry  for  him  and 
for  the  child,  for  he  was  a  man  greatly  thought  of  by  the 
people. 

While  he  lay  there  asleep,  the  chief  of  the  camp  came  to 
him  and  woke  him,  and  said  :  "  Well,  friend,  what  have  you 
decided  on?  What  is  your  mind?  What  are  you  going  to 
do?"  The  man  answered  :  "My  child  is  lonely.  It  will  not 
eat.  It  is  crying  for  its  mother.  It  will  not  notice  any  one. 
I  am  going  to  look  for  my  wife."  The  chief  said,  "  I  cannot 
say  anything."  He  went  about  to  all  the  lodges  and  told 
the  people  that  this  man  was  going  away  to  seek  his  wife. 

Now  there  was  in  the  camp  a  strong  medicine  man,  who 
was  not  married  and  would  not  marry  at  all.  He  had  said, 
"  When  I  had  my  dream,  it  told  me  that  I  must  never  have 
a  wife."  The  man  who  had  lost  his  wife  had  a  very  beauti- 
ful sister,  who  had  never  married.  She  was  very  proud  and 
very  handsome.  Many  men  had  wanted  to  marry  her,  but 
she  would  not  have  anything  to  do  with  any  man.  The 
medicine  man  secretly  loved  this  handsome  girl,  the  sister  of 
the  poor  man.  When  he  heard  of  this  poor  man's  misfort- 
une, the  medicine  man  was  in  great  sorrow,  and  cried  over 
it.  He  sent  word  to  the  poor  man,  saying :  "  Go  and  tell 
this  man  that  I  have  promised  never  to  take  a  wife,  but  that 
if  he  will  give  me  his  beautiful  sister,  he  need  not  go  to  look 
for  his  wife.     I  will  send  my  secret  helper  in  search  of  her." 

When  the  young  girl  heard  what  this  medicine  man  had 
said,  she  sent  word  to  him,  saying,  "  Yes,  if  you  bring  my 
brother's  wife  home,  and  I  see  her  sitting  here  by  his  side,  I 
will  marry  you,  but  not  before."  But  she  did  not  mean 
what  she  said.  She  intended  to  deceive  him  in  some  way, 
and  not  to  marry  him  at  all.     When  the  girl  sent  this  mes- 


w 

Hi 


l8  STORIKS    OF    ADVKNTUKE 

sage  to  him,  the  medicine  man  sent  for  her  and  her  brother 
to  come  to  his  lodge.  When  they  had  come,  he  spoke  to 
the  poor  man  and  said,  "  If  I  bring  your  wife  here,  are  you 
willing  to  give  me  your  sister  for  my  wife?  "  The  poor  man 
answered,  "Yes."  But  the  young  girl  kept  quiet  in  his 
presence,  and  had  nothing  to  say.  Then  the  medicine  man 
said  to  them  :  "  Go.  To-night  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
you  will  hear  me  sing."  He  sent  everybody  out  of  his 
lodge,  and  said  to  the  people  :  "  I  will  close  the  door  of  my 
lodge,  and  I  do  not  want  any  one  to  come  in  to-night,  nor  to 
look  through  the  door.  A  spirit  will  come  to  me  to-night." 
He  made  the  people  know,  by  a  sign  put  out  before  the  door 
of  his  lodge,  that  no  one  must  enter  it,  until  such  time  as  he 
was  through  making  his  medicine.  Then  he  built  a  fire,  and 
began  to  get  out  all  his  medicine.  He  unwrapped  his 
bundle  and  took  out  his  pipe  and  his  rattles  and  his  other 
things.  After  a  time,  the  fire  burned  down  until  it  was  only 
coals  and  his  lodge  was  dark,  and  on  the  fire  he  threw  sweet- 
scented  herbs,  sweet  grass,  and  sweet  pine,  so  as  to  draw  his 
dream-helper  to  him. 

Now  in  the  middle  of  the  night  he  was  in  the  lodge  sing- 
ing, when  suddenly  the  people  heard  a  strange  voice  in  the 
lodge  say  :  "  Well,  my  chief,  I  have  come.  What  is  it  ?  " 
The  medicine  man  said,  "  I  want  you  to  help  me."  The 
voice  said,  "Yes,  I  know  it,  and  I  know  what  you  want  me 
to  do."  The  medicine  man  asked,  "What  is  it?"  The 
voice  said,  "  You  want  me  to  go  and  get  a  woman."  The 
medicine  man  answered  :  "That  is  what  I  want.  I  want  you 
to  go  and  get  a  woman  —  the  lost  woman."  The  voice  said 
to  him,  "  Did  I  not  tell  you  never  to  call  me,  unless  you 
were  in  great  need  of  my  help?"  The  medicine  man  an- 
swered, "Yes,  but  that  girl  that  was  never  going  to  be 
married  is  going  to  be  given  to  me  through  your  help." 
Then  the  voice  said,  "  Oh  ! "  and  it  was  silent  for  a  little 
while.     Then  it  went  on  and  said  :  "  Well,  we  have  a  good 


THE    LOST    WOMAN 


19 


feeling  for  you,  and  you  have  been  a  long  time  not  married  ; 
so  we  will  help  you  to  get  that  girl,  and  you  will  have  her. 
Yes,  we  have  great  pity  on  you.  We  will  go  and  look  for 
this  woman,  and  will  try  to  find  her,  but  I  cannot  promise 
you  that  we  will  bring  her ;  but  we  will  try.  We  will  go,  and 
in  four  nights  I  will  be  back  here  again  at  this  same  time, 
and  I  think  that  I  can  bring  the  woman ;  but  I  will  not 
promise.  While  I  am  gone,  I  will  let  you  know  how  I  get  on. 
Now  I  am  going  away."  And  then  the  people  heard  in  the 
lodge  a  sound  like  a  strong  wind,  and  nothing  more.  He 
was  gone. 

Some  people  went  and  told  the  sister  what  the  medicine 
man  and  the  voice  had  been  saying,  and  the  girl  was  very 
down-hearted,  and  cried  over  the  idea  that  she  must  be 
married,  and  that  she  had  been  forced  into  it  in  this  way. 

Ill 

When  the  dream  person  went  away,  he  came  late  at  night 
to  the  camp  of  the  Snakes,  the  enemy.  The  woman  who 
had  been  captured  was  always  crying  over  the  loss  of  her 
man  and  her  child.  She  had  another  husband  now.  The 
man  who  had  captured  her  had  taken  her  for  his  wife.  As 
she  was  lying  there,  in  her  husband's  lodge,  crying  for  sor- 
row for  her  loss,  the  dream  person  came  to  her.  Her  hus- 
band was  asleep.  The  dream-helper  touched  her  and 
pushed  her  a  little,  and  she  looked  up  and  saw  a  person 
standing  by  her  side ;  but  she  did  not  know  who  it  was. 
The  person  whispered  in  her  ear,  "  Get  up,  I  want  to  take 
you  home."  She  began  to  edge  away  from  her  husband, 
and  at  length  got  up,  and  all  the  time  the  person  was  moving 
toward  the  door.  She  followed  him  out,  and  saw  him  walk 
away  from  the  lodge,  and  she  went  after.  The  person  kept 
ahead,  and  the  woman  followed  him,  and  they  went  away, 
travelling  very  fast.     After  they  had  travelled  some  distance, 


I 


20 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


she  called  out  to  the  dream  person  to  stop,  for  she  was 
getting  tired.  Then  the  person  stopped,  and  when  he  saw 
the  woman  sitting,  he  would  sit  down,  but  he  would  not  talk 
to  her. 

As  they  travelled  on,  the  woman,  when  she  got  tired, 
would  sit  down,  and  because  she  was  very  tired,  she  would 
fall  asleep ;  and  when  she  awoke  and  looked  up,  she 
always  saw  the  person  walking  away  from  her,  and  she  would 
get  up  and  follow  him.  When  day  came,  the  shape  would 
be  far  ahead  of  her,  but  at  night  it  would  keep  closer. 
When  she  spoke  to  this  person,  the  woman  would  rail  him 
"young  man."  At  one  time  she  said  to  him,  "  Young  man, 
my  moccasins  are  all  worn  out,  and  my  feet  are  getting  very 
sore,  and  I  am  very  tired  and  hungry."  When  she  had  said 
this,  she  sat  down  and  fell  asleep,  and  as  she  was  falling 
asleep,  she  saw  the  person  going  away  from  her.  He  went 
back  to  the  lodge  of  the  medicine  man. 

During  this  night  the  camp  heard  the  medicine  man  sing- 
ing his  song,  and  they  knew  that  the  dream  person  must  be 
back  again,  or  that  his  chief  must  be  calling  him.  The 
medicine  man  had  unwrapped  his  bundle,  and  had  taken  out 
.all  his  things,  and  again  had  a  fire  of  coals,  on  which  he 
burned  sweet  pine  and  sweet  grass.  Those  who  were  listen- 
ing heard  a  voice  say  :  "  W^ell,  my  chief,  I  am  back  again,  and 
I  am  here  to  tell  you  something.  I  am  bringing  the  woman 
you  sent  me  after.  She  is  very  hungry  and  has  no  moccasins, 
(let  me  those  things,  and  I  will  take  them  back  to  her." 
The  medicine  man  went  out  of  the  lodge,  and  called  to  the 
poor  man,  who  was  mourning  for  his  wife,  that  he  wanted  to 
see  him.  The  man  came,  carrying  the  child  on  his  back,  to 
hear  what  the  medicine  man  had  to  say.  He  said  to  him  : 
"  Get  some  moccasins  and  something  to  eat  for  your  wife. 
I  want  to  send  them  to  her.  She  is  coming."  The  poor 
man  went  to  his  sister,  and  told  her  to  give  him  some  moc- 
casins and  some  pemmican.     She  made  a  bundle  of  these 


THF.    LOST    WOMAN 


31 


things,  and  the  man  took  them  to  the  medicine  man,  who 
gave  them  to  the  tlream  person  ;  and  again  he  disappeared 
out  of  the  lodge  hke  a  wind. 

IV 

When  the  woman  awoke  in  the  morning  and  started  to  get 
up,  she  hit  her  foce  against  a  bundle  lying  by  her,  and  when 
she  opened  it,  she  found  in  it  moccasins  and  some  pemmican  ; 
and  she  put  on  the  moccasins  and  ate,  and  while  she  was 
putting  on  the  moccasins  and  eating,  she  looked  over  to 
where  she  had  last  seen  the  person,  and  he  was  sitting  there 
with  his  back  toward  her.  She  could  never  see  his  face. 
When  she  had  finished  eating,  he  got  up  and  went  on,  and 
she  rose  and  followed.  They  went  on,  and  the  woman 
thought,  "  Now  I  have  travelled  two  days  and  two  nights 
with  this  young  man,  and  I  wonder  what  kind  of  a  man  he  is. 
He  seems  to  take  no  notice  of  me."  So  she  made  up 
her  mind  to  walk  fast  and  to  try  to  overtake  him,  and  see 
what  sort  of  a  man  he  was.  She  started  to  do  so,  but  how- 
ever fast  she  walked,  it  made  no  difference.  She  could  not 
overtake  him.  Whether  she  walked  fast,  or  whether  she 
walked  slow,  he  was  always  the  same  distance  from  her. 
They  travelled  on  until  night,  and  then  she  lay  down  again 
and  fell  asleep.  She  dreamed  that  the  young  man  had  left 
her  again. 

The  dream  person  had  really  left  her,  and  had  gone 
back  to  the  medicine  man's  lodge,  and  said  to  him  :  "  Well, 
my  chief,  I  am  back  again.  I  am  bringing  the  woman. 
You  must  tell  this  poor  man  to  get  on  his  horse,  and  ride 
back  toward  Milk  River  (the  Teton).  Let  him  go  in  among 
the  high  hills  on  this  side  of  the  Muddy,  and  let  him  wait 
there  until  daylight,  and  look  toward  the  hills  of  Milk 
River ;  and  after  the  sun  is  up  a  little  way,  he  will  see  a 
band  of  antelope  running  toward  him,  along  the  trail  that 


22 


STORIES   OF   ADVENTURE 


the  Blackfeet  travel.  It  will  be  his  wife  who  has  frightened 
these  antelope.  Let  him  wait  there  for  a  while,  and  he  will 
see  a  person  coming.  This  will  be  his  wife.  Then  let  him 
go  to  meet  her,  for  she  has  no  moccasins.  She  will  be  glad 
to  see  him,  for  she  is  crying  all  the  time." 

The  medicine  man  told  the  poor  man  this,  and  he  got  on 
his  horse  and  started,  as  he  had  been  told.  He  could  net 
believe  that  it  was  true.  But  he  went.  At  last  he  got  to 
the  place,  and  a  little  while  after  the  sun  had  risen,  as  he  was 
lying  on  a  hill  looking  toward  the  hills  of  the  Milk  River,  he 
saw  a  band  of  antelope  running  toward  him,  as  he  had  been 
told  he  would  see.  He  lay  there  for  a  long  time,  but  saw 
nothing  else  come  in  sight ;  and  finally  he  got  angry  and 
thought  that  what  had  been  told  him  was  a  lie,  and  he  got 
up  to  mount  his  horse  and  ride  back.  Just  then  he  saw,  away 
down,  far  off  on  the  prairie,  a  small  black  speck,  but  he  did 
not  think  it  was  moving,  it  was  so  far  off,  —  barely  to  be  seen. 
He  thought  maybe  it  was  a  rock.  He  lay  down  again  and 
took  sight  on  the  speck  by  a  straw  of  grass  in  front  of  him, 
and  looked  for  a  long  time,  and  after  a  while  he  saw  the  speck 
pass  the  straw,  and  then  he  knew  it  was  something.  He  got 
on  his  horse  and  started  to  ride  up  and  find  out  what  it  was, 
riding  way  around  it,  through  the  hills  and  ravines,  so  that 
he  would  not  be  seen.  He  rode  up  in  a  ravine  behind  it, 
pretty  near  to  it,  and  then  he  could  see  it  was  a  person  on 
foot.  He  got  out  his  bow  and  arrows  and  held  them  read\ 
to  use,  and  then  started  to  ride  up  to  it.  He  rode  toward 
the  person,  and  at  last  he  got  near  enough  to  see  that  it  was 
his  wife.  When  he  saw  this,  he  could  not  help  crying  ;  and 
as  he  rode  up,  the  woman  looked  back,  and  knew  first  the 
horse,  and  then  her  husband,  and  she  was  so  glad  that  she 
fell  down  and  knew  nothing. 

After  she  had  come  to  herself  and  they  had  talked  together, 
they  got  on  the  horse  and  rode  off  toward  camp.  When  he 
came  over  the  hill  in  sight  of  camj),  all  the  people  began  to 


'rr 


THE   LOST    WOMAN 


23 


say,  "  Here  comes  the  man  "  ;  and  at  last  they  could  see 
from  a  distance  that  he  had  some  one  on  the  horse  behind 
hun,  and  they  knew  that  it  must  be  his  wife,  and  they  were  glad 
to  see  him  bringing  her  back,  for  he  was  a  man  thought  a 
great  deal  of,  and  everybody  liked  him  and  liked  his  wife  and 
the  way  he  was  kind  to  her. 

Then  the  handsome  girl  was  given  to  the  medicine  man 
and  became  his  wife. 


I 


II 


ADVENTURES  OF  BULL  TURNS  ROUND 

I 

Once  the  camp  moved,  but  one  lodge  stayed.  It  belonged 
to  Wolf  Tail ;  and  AVolf  Tail's  younger  brother,  Bull  Turns 
Round,  lived  with  him.  Now  their  father  loved  both  his  sons, 
but  he  loved  the  younger  one  most,  and  when  he  went  away 
with  the  big  camp,  he  said  to  Wolf  Tail :  "  Take  care  of 
your  young  brother ;  he  is  not  yet  a  strong  person.  Watch 
him  that  nothing  befall  him." 

One  day  Wolf  Tail  was  out  hunting,  and  Bull  Turns  Round 
sat  in  front  of  the  lodge  making  arrows,  and  a  beautiful  strange 
bird  lit  on  the  ground  before  him.  Then  cried  one  of  Wolf 
Tail's  wives,  "Oh,  brother,  shoot  that  Httle  bird."  "Don't 
bother  me,  sister,"  he  replied, "  I  am  making  arrows."  Again 
the  woman  said,  "  Oh,  brother,  shoot  that  bird  for  me."  Then 
Bull  Turns  Round  fitted  an  arrow  to  his  bow  and  shot  the 
bird,  and  the  woman  went  and  picked  it  up  and  stroked  her 
face  with  it,  and  her  face  swelled  up  so  big  that  her  eyes  and 
nose  could  not  be  seen.  But  when  Bull  Turns  Round  had 
shot  the  bird,  he  went  off  hunting  and  did  not  know  what 
had  happened  to  the  woman's  face. 

Now  when  Wolf  Tail  came  home  and  saw  his  wife's  face, 
he  said,  "  What  is  the  matter?  "  and  his  wife  replied  :  "  Your 
brother  has  pounded  me  so  that  I  cannot  see.  do  now  and 
kill  him."  But  Wolf  Tail  said,  "  No,  I  love  my  brother  ;  I 
cannot  kill  him."  Then  his  wife  cried  and  said  :  "  I  know 
you  do  not  love  me  ;  you  are  glad  your  brother  has  beaten 
me.  If  3'ou  loved  me,  you  would  go  and  kill  him." 
24 


ADVENTURES  OF  BULL  TURNS  ROUND      2$ 

Then  Wolf  Tail  went  out  and  looked  for  his  brother,  and 
when  he  had  found  him,  he  said  :  "  Come,  let  us  get  some 
feathers.  I  know  where  there  is  an  eagle's  nest;"  and  he 
took  him  to  a  high  cliff,  which  overhung  the  river,  and  on 
the  edge  of  this  cliff  was  a  dead  tree,  in  the  top  of  which  the 
eagles  had  built  their  nest.  Then  said  Wolf  Tail,  "  Climb 
up,  brother,  and  kill  the  eagles  ;  "  and  when  Bull  Turns 
Round  had  climbed  nearly  to  the  top,  Wolf  Tail  called  out, 
"  I  am  going  to  push  the  tree  over  the  cliff,  and  you  will  be 
killed." 

"  Oh,  brother  I  oh,  brother  !  pity  me  ;  do  not  kill  me," 
said  Bull  Turns  Round. 

"  Why  did  you  beat  my  wife's  face  so?  "  said  Wolf  Tail. 

"  I  didn't,"  cried  the  boy  ;  "  I  don't  know  what  you  are 
talking  about." 

"  You  lie,"  said  Wolf  Tail,  and  he  pushed  the  tree  over 
the  cliff.  He  looked  over  and  saw  his  brother  fall  into  the 
water,  and  he  did  not  come  up  again.  Then  Wolf  Tail  went 
home  and  took  down  his  lodge,  and  went  to  the  main  camp. 
When  his  father  saw  him  coming  with  only  his  wives,  he 
said  to  him,  "Where  is  your  young  brother?"  And  Wolf 
Tail  replied  :  "  He  went  hunting  and  did  not  come  back. 
We  waited  four  days  for  him.  I  think  the  bears  must  have 
killed  him." 

n 

Now  when  Bull  Turns  Round  fell  into  the  river,  he  was 
stunned,  and  the  water  carried  him  a  long  way  down  the 
stream  and  finally  lodged  him  on  a  sand  shoal.  Near  this 
shoal  was  a  lodge  of  Under  Water  People  {Su^-ye-tup^-pi),  an 
old  man,  his  wife,  and  two  daughters.  This  old  man  was 
very  rich  :  he  had  great  flocks  of  geese,  swans,  ducks,  and 
other  water-fowl,  and  a  big  herd  of  buffalo  which  were  tame. 
These  buffalo  always  fed  near  by,  and  the  old  man  called 
them  every  evening  to  come  and  drink.     But  he  and  his 


26 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURK 


.  ;( 


i\'l 


family  ate  none  of  these.  Their  only  food  was  the  blood- 
sucker.^ 

Now  the  old  man's  daughters  were  swimming  about  in  the 
evening,  and  they  found  Bull  Turns  Round  lying  on  the  shoal, 
dead,  and  they  went  home  and  told  their  father,  and  begged 
him  to  bring  the  person  to  life,  and  give  him  to  them  for  a  hus- 
band. "  Go,  my  daughters,"  he  said,  "  and  make  four  sweat 
lodges,  and  I  will  bring  the  person."  He  went  and  got  Bull 
Turns  Round,  and  when  the  sweat  lodges  were  finished,  the 
old  man  took  him  into  one  of  them,  and  when  he  had  sprinkled 
water  on  the  hot  rocks,  he  scraped  a  great  quantity  of  sand 
off  Bull  Turns  Round.  Then  he  took  him  into  another  lodge 
and  did  the  same  thing,  and  when  he  had  taken  him  into  the 
fourth  sweat  lodge  and  scraped  all  the  sand  off  him,  Bull 
Turns  Round  came  to  life,  and  the  old  man  led  him  out  and 
gave  him  to  his  daughters.  And  the  old  man  gave  his  son-in- 
law  a  new  lodge  and  bows  and  arrows,  and  many  good  j)resents. 

Then  the  women  cooked  some  bloodsuckers,  and  gave 
them  to  their  husband,  but  when  he  smelled  of  them  he 
could  not  eat,  and  he  threw  them  in  the  fire.  Then  his 
wives  asked  him  what  he  would  eat.  "  Buffalo,"  he  replied, 
"  is  the  only  meat  for  men." 

"  Oh,  father  ! "  cried  the  girls,  running  to  the  old  man's 
lodge,  "  our  husband  will  not  eat  our  food.  He  says  buffalo 
is  the  only  meat  for  men." 

"  Go  then,  my  daughters,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and  tell 
your  husband  to  kill  a  buffalo,  but  do  not  take  nor  break  any 
bones,  for  I  will  make  it  alive  again."  Then  the  old  man 
called  the  buffalo  to  come  and  drink,  and  Bull  Turns  Round 
shot  a  fat  cow  and  took  all  the  meat.  And  when  he  had 
roasted  the  tongue,  he  gave  each  of  his  wives  a  small  piece 
of  it,  and  they  liked  it,  and  they  roasted  and  ate  plenty  of 
the  meat. 


•  V 


1  Blackfoof  - 
stnk-ki.  bite. 


■  list'-stiik-ki,  suck-bite;  from  Est-ah-tope,  suck,  aiui  1-sik- 


ADVENTURES  OF  BULL  TURNS  ROUND 


27 


III 

One  day  Bull  Turns  Round  went  to  the  old  man  and  said, 
"  I  mourn  for  my  father." 

"How  did  you  come  to  be  dead  on  the  sand  shoal?" 
asked  the  old  man.  Then  Bull  Turns  Round  told  what  his 
brother  had  done  to  him. 

"  Take  this  piece  of  sinew,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Go  and 
see  your  father.  A\'hen  you  throw  this  sinew  on  the  fire,  your 
brother  and  his  wife  will  roll,  and  twist  up  and  die."  Then 
the  old  man  gave  him  a  herd  of  buffolo,  and  many  dogs  to 
pack  the  lodge,  and  other  things  ;  and  Bull  Turns  Round  took 
his  wives,  and  went  to  find  his  father. 

One  day,  just  after  sunset,  they  came  in  sight  of  the  big 
camp,  and  they  went  and  pitched  the  lodge  on  the  top  of  a 
very  high  butte  ;  and  the  buffalo  fed  close  by,  and  there  were 
so  many  of  them  that  they  covered  the  whole  hill. 

Now  the  people  were  starving,  and  some  had  died,  for 
they  had  no  buffalo.  In  the  morning,  early,  a  man  arose 
whose  son  had  starved  to  death,  and  when  he  went  out  and 
saw  this  lodge  on  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  all  the  buffalo  feed- 
ing by  it,  he  cried  out  in  a  loud  voice  ;  and  the  people  all 
came  out  and  looked  at  it,  and  they  were  afraid,  for  they 
thought  it  was  Sfon'-i-fap-i}  Then  said  the  man  whose  son 
had  died  :  "  I  am  no  longer  glad  to  live.  I  will  go  up  to 
this  lodge,  and  find  out  what  this  is."  Now  when  he  said 
this,  all  the  men  grasped  their  bows  and  arrows  and  followed 
him,  and  when  they  went  up  the  hill,  the  buffalo  just  moved 
out  of  their  path  and  kept  on  feeding  ;  and  just  as  they  came 
to  the  lodge.  Bull  Turns  Round  came  out,  and  all  the  people 
said,  "  Here  is  the  one  whom  we  thought  the  bears  had 
killed."  Wolf  Tail  ran  up,  and  said,  "  Oh,  brother,  you  are 
not  dead.     You  went  to  get  feathers,  but  we  thought  you  had 

1  There  is  no  word  in  linglish  which  corresponds  to  this.  If  is  used  when 
speaking  of  things  wonderful  or  supernatural. 


J, 


Hi 


I! 

id 
I 


28  STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


f.  i  been  killed."     Then  Bull  Turns  Round  called  his  brother 

into  the  lodge,  and  he  threw  the  sinew  on  the  fire  ;  and  Wolf 
Tail,  and  his  wife,  who  was  standing  outside,  twisted  up  and 
died. 

Then  ]5ull  Turns  Round  told  his  father  all  that  had  hap- 
pened to  him  ;  and  when  he  learned  that  the  people  were 
starving,  he  filled  his  mouth  with  feathers  and  blew  them  out, 
and  the  buffalo  ran  off  in  every  direction,  and  he  said  to  the 
people,  "  There  is  food,  go  chase  it."  Then  the  people  were 
very  glad,  and  they  came  each  one  and  gave  him  a  present. 
They  gave  him  war  shirts,  bows  and  arrows,  shields,  spears, 
white  robes,  and  many  curious  things. 


KUT-O'-YIS 


Long  ago,  down  where  Two  Medicine  and  Badger  Creeks 
come  together,  there  lived  an  old  man.  He  had  but  one 
wife  and  two  daughters.  One  day  there  came  to  his  camp  a 
young  man  who  was  very  brave  and  a  great  hunter.  The  old 
man  said  :  "  Ah  !  I  will  have  this  young  man  to  help  me.  I 
will  give  him  my  daughters  for  wives."  So  he  gave  him  his 
daughters.  He  also  gave  this  son-in-law  all  his  wealth,  keep- 
ing for  himself  only  a  litde  lodge,  in  which  he  lived  with  his 
old  wife.  The  son-in-law  lived  in  a  lodge  that  was  big  and 
fine. 

At  first  the  son-in-law  was  very  good  to  the  old  people. 
Whenever  he  killed  anything,  he  gave  them  part  of  the  meat, 
and  furnished  plenty  of  robes  and  skins  for  their  bedding  and 
clothing.  But  after  a  while  he  began  to  be  very  mean  to 
them. 

Now  the  son-in-law  kept  the  buffalo  hidden  under  a  big 
kg  jam  in  the  river.  Whenever  he  wanted  to  kill  anything, 
he  would  have  the  old  man  go  to  help  him ;  and  the  old  man 
would  stamp  on  the  log  jam  and  frighten  the  buffalo,  and 
when  they  ran  out,  the  young  man  would  shoot  one  or  two, 
never  killing  wastefully.  But  often  he  gave  the  old  people 
nothing  to  eat,  and  they  were  hungry  all  the  time,  and  began 
to  grow  thin  and  weak. 

One  morning,  the  young  man  called  his  father-in-law  to  go 
down  to  the  log  jam  and  hunt  with  him.  'I'hey  started,  and 
the  young  man  killed  a  fat  buffalo  cow.  Then  he  said  to  the 
old  man,  "  Hurry  back  now,  and  tell  your  children  to  get  the 

29 


f. 

■■  'I' 

fil  '' 

,,l 


I 


30  STORIKS    OK    ADVKNTURE 

dogs  and  carry  this  meat  home,  then  you  can  have  some- 
thing to  eat."  And  the  old  man  did  as  he  had  been  ordered, 
thinking  to  himself :  "  Now,  at  last,  my  son-in-law  has  taken 
jMty  on  me.  He  will  give  me  part  of  this  meat."  When  he 
returned  with  the  dogs,  they  skinned  the  cow,  cut  up  the 
meat  and  packed  it  on  the  dog  travois,  and  went  home.  Then 
the  young  man  had  his  wives  unload  it,  and  told  his  father- 
in-law  to  go  home.  He  did  not  give  him  even  a  piece  of 
liver.  Neither  would  the  older  daughter  give  her  parents 
anything  to  eat,  but  the  younger  took  pity  on  the  old  people 
and  stole  a  piece  of  meat,  and  when  she  got  a  chance  threw 
it  into  the  lodge  to  the  old  people.  The  son-in-law  told  his 
wives  not  to  give  the  old  people  anything  to  eat.  The  only 
way  they  got  food  was  when  the  younger  woman  would  throw 
them  a  piece  of  meat  unseen  by  her  husband  and  sister. 

Another  morning,  the  son-in-law  got  up  early,  and  went 
and  kicked  on  the  old  man's  lodge  to  wake  him,  and  called 
him  to  get  up  and  help  him,  to  go  and  pound  on  the  log 
jam  to  drive  out  the  buffalo,  so  that  he  could  kill  some. 
When  the  old  man  pounded  on  the  jam,  a  buffalo  ran  out, 
and  the  son-in-law  shot  it,  but  only  wounded  it.  It  ran 
away,  but  at  last  fell  down  and  died.  The  old  man  followed 
it,  and  came  to  where  it  had  lost  a  big  clot  of  blood  from 
its  wound.  When  he  came  to  where  this  clot  of  blood  was 
lying  on  the  ground,  he  stumbled  and  fell,  and  spilled  his 
arrows  out  of  his  (juiver ;  and  while  he  was  picking  them  up, 
he  picked  up  also  the  clot  of  blood,  and  hid  it  in  his  quiver. 
"What  are  you  picking  up?"  called  vout  the  son-in-law. 
"  Nothing,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  I  just  feli"  down  and  spilled 
my  arrows,  and  am  putting  them  back."  "  Curse  you,  old 
man,"  said  the  son-in-law,  "  you  are  lazy  an*i  useless.  Go 
back  and  tell  your  children  to  come  with  tlii  dogs  and  get 
this  dead  buffalo."  He  also  took  away  his  bow  and  arrows 
from  the  old  man. 

The  old  man  went  home  and  told  his  daughters,  and  then 


KUT-o'-YIS  31 

went  over  to  his  own  lodge,  and  said  to  his  wife  :  "  Hurry  now, 
and  put  the  kettle  on  the  fire.  I  have  brought  home  some- 
thing from  the  butchering."  "  Ah  !  "  said  the  old  woman, 
"  has  our  son-in-law  been  generous,  and  given  us  something 
nice?  "  "  No,"  answered  the  old  man  ;  "  hurry  up  and  put 
the  kettle  on."  When  the  water  began  to  boil,  the  old  man 
tipped  his  quiver  up  over  the  kettle,  and  immediately  there 
came  from  the  pot  a  noise  as  of  a  child  crying,  as  if  it  were 
being  hurt,  burnt  or  scalded.  They  looked  in  the  kettle, 
and  saw  there  a  little  boy,  and  they  quickly  took  it  out  of 
the  water.  They  were  very  much  surprised.  The  old 
woman  made  a  lashing  to  put  the  child  in,  and  then  they 
talked  about  it.  They  decided  that  if  the  son-in-law  knew 
that  it  was  a  boy,  he  would  kill  it,  so  they  resolved  to  tell 
their  daughters  that  the  baby  was  a  girl.  Then  he  would 
be  glad,  for  he  would  think  that  after  a  while  he  would  have 
it  for  a  wife.  They  named  the  child  Kiit-o'-yis  (Clot  of 
Blood). 

The  son-in-law  and  his  wives  came  home,  and  after  a  while 
he  heard  the  child  crying.  He  told  his  youngest  wife  to  go 
and  find  out  whether  that  baby  was  a  boy  or  a  girl ;  if  it  was 
a  boy,  to  tell  them  to  kill  it.  She  came  back  and  told  them 
that  it  was  a  girl.  He  did  not  believe  this,  and  sent  his  old- 
est wife  to  find  out  the  truth  of  the  matter.  When  she  came 
back  and  told  him  the  same  thing,  he  believed  that  it  was 
really  a  girl.  Then  he  was  glad,  for  he  thought  that  when  the 
child  had  grown  up  he  would  have  another  wife.  He  said 
to  his  youngest  wife,  "  Take  some  pemmican  over  to  your 
mother ;  not  much,  just  enough  so  that  there  will  be  plenty 
of  milk  for  the  child." 

Now  on  the  fourth  day  the  child  spoke,  and  said,  "  Lash 
me  in  turn  to  each  one  of  these  lodge  poles,  and  when  I  get 
to  the  last  one,  I  will  fall  out  of  my  lashing  and  be  grown  up." 
The  old  woman  did  so,  and  as  she  lashed  him  to  each  lodge 
pole  he  could  be  seen  to  grow,  and  finally  when  they  lashed 


i'^ 


32 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


1-. 


III 


him  to  the  last  pole,  he  was  a  man.  After  Kut-o'-yls  had 
looked  about  the  inside  of  the  lodge,  he  looked  out  through 
a  hole  in  the  lodge  covering,  and  then,  turning  round,  he  said 
to  the  old  people  :  "  How  is  it  there  is  nothing  to  eat  in  this 
lodge?  I  see  plenty  of  food  over  by  the  other  lodge." 
"  Hush  up,"  said  the  old  woman,  "  you  will  be  heard.  That 
Is  our  son-in-law.  He  does  not  give  us  anything  at  all  to 
eat."  "Well,"  said  Kiit-o'-yis,  "where  is  your  pis'kun?" 
The  old  woman  said,  "  It  is  down  by  the  river.  ^Ve  pound 
on  it  and  the  bufiido  come  out." 

Then  the  old  man  told  him  how  his  son-in-law  abused  him. 
"  He  has  taken  my  weapons  from  me,  and  even  my  dogs ; 
and  for  many  days  we  have  had  nothing  to  eat,  except  now 
and  then  a  small  piece  of  meat  our  daughter  steals  for  us." 

"  Father,"  said  Kiit-o'-yis,  "  have  you  no  arrows?  "  "  No, 
my  son,"  he  replied  ;  "  but  I  have  yet  four  stone  points." 

"  Go  out  then  and  get  some  wood,"  said  Kiit-o'-yis.  "  We 
will  make  a  bow  and  arrows.  In  the  morning  we  will  go 
down  and  kill  something  to  eat." 

Early  in  the  morning  Kiit-o'-yis  woke  the  old  man,  and 
said,  "  Come,  we  will  go  down  now  and  kill  when  the  buffalo 
come  out."  When  they  had  reached  the  river,  the  old  man 
said  :  "  Here  is  the  place  to  stand  and  shoot.  I  will  go  down 
and  drive  them  out."  As  he  pounded  on  the  jam,  a  fat  cow 
ran  out,  and  Kut-o'-yis  killed  it. 

Meantime  the  son-in-law  had  gone  out,  and  as  usual 
knocked  on  the  old  man's  lodge,  and  called  to  him  to  get  up 
and  go  down  to  help  him  kill.  The  old  woman  called  to 
him  that  her  husband  had  already  gone  down.  This  made 
the  son-in-law  very  angry.  He  said  :  "  I  have  a  good  mind 
to  kill  you  right  now,  old  woman.     I  guess  I  will  by  and  by." 

The  son-in-law  went  on  down  to  the  jam,  and  as  he  drew 
near,  he  saw  the  old  man  bending  over,  skinning  a  buffalo. 
"  Old  man,"  said  he,  "  stand  up  and  look  all  around  you. 
I-ook  well,  for  it  will  be  your  last  look."     Now  when  he 


KUT-o'-VIS  33 

had  seen  the  son-in-law  coming,  Kut-o'-yis  had  lain  down 
and  hidden  himself  behind  the  buffalo's  carcass.  He  told 
the  old  man  to  say  to  his  son-in-law,  "  You  had  better  take 
your  last  look,  for  I  am  going  to  kill  you,  right  now."  The 
old  man  said  this.  "  Ah  ! "  said  the  son-in-law,  "  you  make 
me  angrier  still,  by  talking  back  to  me."  He  put  an  ^  row 
to  his  bow  and  shot  at  the  old  man,  but  did  not  hit  him. 
Kut-o'-yis  told  the  old  man  to  pick  up  the  arrow  and  shoot 
it  back  at  him,  and  he  did  so.  Now  they  shot  at  each  other 
four  times,  and  then  the  old  man  said  to  Kut-o'-yis  :  "  I  am 
afraid  now.  Get  up  and  help  me."  So  Kut-o'-yis  got  up  on 
his  feet  and  said  :  "  Here,  what  are  you  doing?  I  think  you 
have  been  badly  treating  this  old  man  for  a  long  time." 

Then  the  son-in-law  smiled  pleasantly,  for  he  was  afraid  of 
Kut:o'-yis.  "  Oh,  no,"  he  said,  "  no  one  thinks  more  of  this 
old  man  than  I  do.     I  have  always  taken  great  pity  on  him." 

Then  Kiit-o'-yis  said  :  "  You  lie.  I  am  going  to  kill  you 
now."  He  shot  him  four  times,  and  the  man  died.  Then 
Kut-o'-yis  told  the  old  man  to  go  and  bring  down  the  daugh- 
ter who  had  acted  badly  toward  him.  He  did  so,  and 
Kiit-o'-yis  killed  her.  Then  he  went  up  to  the  lodges  and 
said  to  the  younger  woman,  "  Perhaps  you  loved  your  hus- 
band." "Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  love  him."  So  he  killed  her, 
too.  Then  he  said  to  the  old  people  :  "  Go  over  there  now, 
and  live  in  that  lodge.  There  is  plenty  there  to  eat,  and 
when  it  is  gone  I  will  kill  more.  As  for  myself,  I  will  make 
a  journey  around  about.  Where  are  there  any  people?  In 
what  direction?"  "  Well,"  said  the  old  man,  "up  above 
here  on  Badger  Creek  and  Two  Medicine,  where  the  pis'kun 
is,  there  are  some  people." 

Kut-o'-yis  went  up  to  where  the  pis'kun  was,  and  saw  there 
many  lodges  of  people.  In  the  centre  of  the  camp  was  a 
large  lodge,  with  a  figure  of  a  bear  painted  on  it.  He  did 
not  go  into  this  lodge,  but  went  into  a  very  small  one  near  by, 
where  two  old  women  lived ;  and  when  he  went  in,  he  asked 


.H 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURK 


'i  \ 


,1 


them  for  something  to  eat.  They  set  before  him  some  lean 
dried  meat  and  some  belly  fat.  "  How  is  this?"  he  asked. 
"  Here  is  a  pis'kun  with  plenty  of  fat  meat  and  back  fat.  Why 
do  you  not  give  me  some  of  that?"  "  Hush,"  said  the  old 
women.  "  In  that  big  lodge  near  by,  lives  a  big  bear  and 
his  wives  and  children.  He  takes  all  those  nice  things  and 
leaves  us  nothing.     He  is  the  chief  of  this  place." 

Early  in  the  morning,  Kut-o'-yis  told  the  old  women  to 
get  their  dog  travois,  and  harness  it,  and  go  over  to  the 
pis'kun,  and  that  he  was  going  to  kill  for  them  some  fat 
meat.  He  reached  there  just  about  the  time  the  buffalo 
were  being  driven  in,  antl  shot  a  cow,  which  looked  very 
scabby,  but  was  really  very  fat.  Then  he  helped  the  old 
women  to  butcher,  and  when  they  had  taken  the  meat  to 
camp,  he  said  to  them,  "  Now  take  all  the  choice  fat 
pieces,  and  hang  them  up  so  that  those  who  live  in  the  bear 
lodge  will  notice  them." 

They  did  this,  and  pretty  soon  the  old  chief  bear  said  to 
his  children  :  "  Go  out  now,  and  look  around.  The  people 
have  finished  killing  by  this  time.  See  where  the  nicest 
pieces  are,  and  bring  in  some  nice  back  fat."  A  young 
bear  went  out  of  the  lodge,  stood  up  and  looked  around, 
and  when  it  saw  this  meat  close  by,  at  the  old  women's 
lodge,  it  went  over  and  began  to  pull  it  down.  "  Hold  on 
there,"  said  Kut-o'-yis.  "What  are  you  doing  here,  taking 
the  old  women's  meat? "  and  he  hit  him  over  the  head  with 
a  stick  that  he  had.  The  young  bear  ran  home  crying,  and 
said  to  his  father,  "  A  young  man  has  hit  me  on  the  head." 
Then  all  the  bears,  the  father  and  mother,  and  uncles  and 
aunts,  and  all  the  relations,  were  very  angry,  and  all  rushed 
out  toward  the  old  women's  lodge. 

Kut-o'-yis  killed  them  all,  except  one  litde  child  bear,  a 
female,  which  escaped.  "  Well,"  said  Kut-o'-yis,  "  you  can 
go  and  breed  bears,  so  there  will  be  more." 

Then  said  Kiit-o'-yis  to  the  old  women :  "  Now,  grand- 


KUT-O'-YIS  35 


mothers,  where  are  there  any  more  people?  I  want  to 
travel  around  and  see  them."  The  old  women  said  :  "The 
nearest  ones  are  at  the  point  of  rocks  (on  Sim  River) 
There  is  a  pis'kun  there."  So  Kiit-o'-yis  travelled  off  toward 
this  place,  and  when  he  reached  the  camp,  he  entered  an 
old  woman's  lodge. 

The  old  woman  set  before  him  a  plate  of  bad  food. 
"  How  is  this?"  he  asketl.  "  Have  you  nothing  better  than 
this  to  set  before  a  stranger?  You  have  a  pis'kun  down 
there,  and  must  get  plenty  of  fat  meat.  Give  me  some 
pemmican. "  "  We  cannot  do  that,"  the  old  woman  replied, 
"  because  there  is  a  big  snake  here,  who  is  chief  of  the 
camp.     He  not  only  takes  the  best  pieces,  but  often  he  eats  ] 

a  handsome  young  woman,  when  he  sees  one."  When  Kut- 
o'-yis  heard  this  he  was  angry,  and  went  over  and  entered 
the  snake's  lodge.  The  women  were  cooking  up  some 
sarvis  berries.  He  picked  up  the  dish,  and  ate  the  berries, 
and  threw  the  dish  out  of  the  door.  Then  he  went  over  to 
where  the  snake  was  lying  asleep,  pricked  him  with  his  knife, 
and  said  :  "  Here,  get  up.  I  have  come  to  see  you."  This 
made  the  snake  angry.  He  partly  raised  himself  up  and 
began  to  rattle,  when  Kilt-o'-yis  cut  him  into  pieces  with  his 
knife.  Then  he  turned  around  and  killed  all  his  wives  and 
children,  except  one  little  female  snake,  which  escaped  by 
crawling  into  a  crack  in  the  rocks.  "  Oh,  well,"  said  Kiit-o'- 
yis,  "  you  can  go  and  breed  young  snakes,  so  there  will  be 
more.  The  people  will  not  be  afraid  of  little  snakes." 
Kut-o'-yis  said  to  the  old  woman,  "  Now  you  go  into  this 
snake's  lodge  and  take  it  for  yourself,  and  everything  that  is 
in  it." 

Then  he  asked  them  w.  re  there  were  some  more  people. 
They  told  him  that  there  were  some  people  down  the  river, 
and  some  up  in  the  mountains.  But  they  said  :  "  Do  not  go 
there,  for  it  is  bad,  because  Ai-siu  o-ko-ki  (Wind  Sucker) 
lives  there.     He  will  kill  you."     It  pleased  Kut-o'-yis  to 


'I 


36  STORIES    OF   ADVENTURE 

know  that  there  was  such  a  person,  and  he  went  to  the 
mountains.  When  he  got  to  the  place  where  Wind  Sucker 
lived,  he  looked  into  his  mouth,  and  could  see  many  dead 
people  there,  —  some  skeletons  and  some  just  dead.  He 
went  in,  and  there  he  saw  a  fearful  sight.  The  ground  was 
white  as  snow  with  the  bones  of  those  who  had  died.  There 
were  bodies  with  flesh  on  them ;  some  were  just  dead,  and 
some  still  living.  He  spoke  to  a  living  person,  and  asked, 
"What  is  that  hanging  down  above  us?"  The  person 
answered  that  it  was  Wind  Sucker's  heart.  Then  said 
Kut-o'-yis  :  "  You  who  still  draw  a  little  breath,  try  to  shake 
your  heads  (in  time  to  the  song),  and  those  who  are  still 
able  to  move,  get  up  and  dance.  Take  courage  now,  we 
are  going  to  have  the  ghost  dance."  So  Kiit-o'-yis  bound 
his  knife,  point  upward,  to  the  top  of  his  head  and  began  to 
dance,  singing  the  ghost  song,  and  all  the  others  danced 
with  him ;  and  as  he  danced  up  and  down,  the  point  of  the 
knife  cut  Wind  Sucker's  heart  and  killed  him.  Kut-o'-yis 
took  his  knife  and  cut  through  Wind  Sucker's  ribs,  and 
freed  those  who  were  able  to  crawl  out,  and  said  to  those 
who  could  still  travel  to  go  and  tell  their  people  that  they 
should  come  here  for  the  ones  who  were  still  alive  but 
unable  to  walk. 

Then  he  asked  some  of  these  people  :  "  Where  are  there 
any  other  people  ?  I  want  to  visit  all  the  people."  They 
said  to  him  :  "There  is  a  camp  to  the  westward  up  the  river, 
but  you  must  not  take  the  left-hand  trail  going  up,  because 
on  that  trail  lives  a  woman,  a  handsome  woman,  who  invites  , 

men  to  wrestle  with  her  and  then  kills  them.  You  must  avoid 
her."  This  was  what  Kiit-o'-yis  was  looking  for.  This  was 
his  business  in  the  world,  to  kill  off  all  the  bad  things.  So 
he  asked  the  people  just  where  this  woman  lived,  and  asked 
where  it  was  best  to  go  to  avoid  her.  He  did  this,  because 
he  did  not  wish  the  people  to  know  that  he  wanted  to  meet 
her. 


KUT-O'-YIS  37 

He  started  on  his  way,  and  at  length  saw  this  woman 
standing  by  the  trail.  She  called  out  to  him,  "  Come  here, 
young  man,  come  here  ;  I  want  to  wrestle  with  you."  "No," 
replied  the  young  man,  "  I  am  in  a  hurry.  I  cannot  stop." 
Hut  the  woman  called  again,  "  No,  no,  come  now  and 
wrestle  once  with  me."  When  she  had  called  him  four 
times,  Kut-o'-yis  went  up  to  her.  Now  on  the  ground,  where 
this  woman  wrestled  with  people,  she  had  placed  many 
broken  and  sharp  flints,  partly  hiding  them  by  the  grass. 
They  seized  each  other,  and  began  to  wrestle  over  these 
broken  flints,  but  Kut-o'-yis  looked  at  the  ground  and  did 
not  step  on  them.  He  watched  his  chance,  and  suddenly 
gave  the  woman  a  wrench,  and  threw  her  down  on  a  large 
sharp  flint,  which  cut  her  in  two ;  and  the  parts  of  her  body 
fell  asunder. 

Then  Kut-o'-yis  went  on,  and  after  a  while  came  to  where 
a  woman  kept  a  sliding  place  ;  and  at  the  far  end  of  it  there 
was  a  rope,  which  would  trip  people  up,  and  when  they  were 
tripped,  they  would  fall  over  a  high  cliff  into  deep  water, 
where  a  great  fish  would  eat  them.  When  this  woman  saw 
him  coming,  she  cried  out,  "  Come  over  here,  young  man, 
and  slide  with  me."  "  No,"  he  replied,  "  I  am  in  a  hurry." 
She  kept  calling  him,  and  when  she  had  called  the  fourth 
time,  he  went  over  to  slide  with  her.  "This  sliding,"  said 
the  woman,  "  is  a  very  pleasant  pastime."  "Ah  !"  said  Kut- 
o'-yis,  "  I  will  look  at  it."  He  looked  at  the  place,  and, 
looking  carefully,  he  saw  the  hidden  rope.  So  he  started  to 
slide,  and  took  out  his  knife,  and  when  he  reached  the  rope, 
which  the  woman  had  raised,  he  cut  it,  and  when  it  parted, 
the  woman  fell  over  backward  into  the  water,  and  was  eaten 
up  by  the  big  fish. 

Again  he  went  on,  and  after  a  while  he  came  to  a  big 
camp.  This  was  the  place  of  a  man-eater.  Kut-o'-yis  called 
a  little  girl  he  saw  near  by,  and  said  to  her  :  "  Child,  I  am 
going  into  that  lodge  to  let  that  man-eater  kill  and  eat  me. 


ill 


3^ 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


I 


Watch  close,  therefore,  and  when  you  can  get  hold  of  one  of 
my  bones,  take  it  out  and  call  all  the  dogs,  and  when  they 
have  all  come  up  to  you,  throw  it  down  and  cry  out,  '  Kut- 
o'-yis,  the  dogs  are  eating  your  bones  ! '" 

Then  Kut-o'-yis  entered  the  lodge,  and  when  the  man- 
eater  saw  him,  he  cried  out,  ''O'/ci,  O'Ai,"  and  seemed  glad 
to  see  him,  for  he  was  a  fat  young  man.  The  man-eater 
took  a  large  knife,  and  went  up  to  Kiit-o'-yis,  and  cut  his 
throat,  and  put  him  into  a  great  stone  kettle  to  cook.  When 
the  meat  was  cooked,  he  drew  the  kettle  from  the  fire,  and 
ate  the  body,  limb  by  limb,  until  it  was  all  eaten  up. 

Then  the  little  girl,  who  was  watching,  came  up  to  him, 
and  said,  "  Pity  me,  man-eater,  my  mother  is  hungry  and 
asks  you  for  those  bones."  So  the  old  man  bunched  them 
up  together  and  handed  them  to  her.  She  took  them  out, 
and  called  all  the  dogs  to  her,  and  threw  the  bones  down  to 
the  dogs,  crying  out,  "  Look  out,  Kiit-o'-yis ;  the  dogs  are 
eating  you  !  "  and  when  she  said  that,  Kut-o'-yis  arose  from 
the  pile  of  bones. 

Again  he  went  into  the  lodge,  and  when  the  man-eater  saw 
him,  he  cried  out,  "  How,  how,  how  !  the  fat  young  man 
has  survived,"  and  seemed  surprised.  Again  he  took  his 
knife  and  cut  Kiit-o'-yis'  throat,  and  threw  him  into  the 
kettle.  Again,  when  the  meat  was  cooked,  he  ate  it  up,  and 
again  the  little  girl  asked  for  the  bones,  which  he  gave  her ; 
and,  taking  them  out,  she  threw  them  to  the  dogs,  crying, 
"  Kiit-o'-yis,  the  dogs  are  eating  you  ! "  and  Kut-o'-yis  again 
arose  from  the  bones. 

When  the  man-eater  had  cooked  him  four  times,  he  again 
went  into  the  lodge,  and,  seizing  the  man-eater,  he  threw 
him  into  the  boiling  kettle,  and  his  wives  and  children  too, 
and  boiled  them  to  death. 

The  man-eater  was  the  seventh  and  last  of  the  bad  animals 
and  people  who  were  destroyed  by  Kut-o'-yis. 


msmasm 


THE   BAD  WIFE 


There  was  once  a  man  who  had  but  one  wife.  He  was 
not  a  chief,  but  a  very  brave  warrior.  He  was  rich,  too, 
so  he  could  have  had  plenty  of  wives  if  he  wished  ;  but  he 
loved  his  wife  very  much,  and  did  not  want  any  more.  He 
was  very  good  to  this  woman.  She  always  wore  the  best 
clothes  that  could  be  found.  If  any  other  woman  had  a 
fme  buckskin  dress,  or  something  very  pretty,  the  man 
would  buy  it  for  her. 

It  was  summer.     The  berries  were  ripe,  and  the  woman 
kept  saying  to  her  husband,  "Let  us  go  and  pick  some 
berries  for  winter."     "  No,"  replied  the  man.     "  It  is  dan- 
gerous now.     IMie  enemy   is   travelling   all  around."     But 
still  the  woman  kept  teasing  hiui  to  go.     So  one  day  he 
told  her  to  get  ready.     Some  other  women  went,  too.     They 
all  went  on  horseback,  for   the   berries  were  a  long  way 
from  camp.     When  they  got  to  the  place,  the  man  told  the 
women  to  keep  near  their  horses  all  the  time.     He  would 
go  up  on  a  butte  near  by  and  watch.     "Be  careful,"  he 
said      "  Keep  by  your  horses,  and  if  you  see  me  signal, 
tlirow   away   your   berries,   get   on   your  horses   and    ride 
towards  camp  as  fast  as  you  can." 

They  had  not  picked  many  berries  before  the  man  saw  a 
war  party  coming.  He  signalled  the  women,  and  got  on 
his  horse  and  rode  towards  them.  It  happened  that  this 
man  and  his  wife  both  had  good  horses,  but  the  others,  all 
old  women,  rode  slow  old  travois  horses,  and  the  enemy 

39 


s 


40  STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 

soon  overtook  and  killed  them.  Many  kept  on  after  the 
two  on  good  horses,  and  after  a  while  the  woman's  horse 
began  to  get  tired ;  so  she  asked  her  husband  to  let  her  ride 
on  his  horse  with  him.  The  woman  got  up  behind  him,  and 
they  went  on  again.  The  horse  was  a  very  powerful  one, 
and  for  a  while  went  very  fast ;  but  two  persons  make  a  heavy 
load,  and  soon  the  enemy  began  to  gain  on  them.  The 
man  was  now  in  a  bad  plight ;  the  enemy  were  o\-ertaking 
him,  and  the  woman  holding  him  bound  his  arms  so  that  he 
could  not  use  his  bow. 

"  Get  off,"  he  said  to  her.  "The  enemy  will  not  kill  you. 
You  are  too  young  and  pretty.  Some  one  of  them  will  take 
you,  and  I  will  get  a  big  party  of  our  people  and  rescue 
you." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  woman  ;  "  let  us  die  here  together." 

"  Why  die  ?  "  cried  the  man.  "  We  are  yet  young,  and  may 
live  a  long  time  together.  If  you  don't  get  off,  they  will 
soon  catch  us  and  kill  me,  and  then  they  will  take  you  any- 
how,    (let  off,  and  in  only  a  short  time  I  will  get  you  back." 

"  No,  no,"  again  cried  the  woman  ;  "  I  will  die  here  with 
you." 

"  Crazy  person  :  "  cried  the  man,  and  with  a  quick  jerk  he 
threw  the  woman  off. 
i-  I  As  he  said,  the  enemy  did  not  kill   her.     The  first  one 

(I  i  who  came  up  counted  coup  and  took  her.     The  man,  now 

that  his  horse  was  lightened,  easily  ran  away  from  the  war 
party,  and  got  safe  to  camp. 

II 

Then  there  was  great  mourning.  The  relatives  of  the  old 
women  who  had  been  killed,  cut  their  hair  and  cried. 
The  man,  too,  cut  off  his  hair  and  mourned.  He  knew 
that  his  wife  was  not  killed,  but  he  felt  very  badly  because 
he  was  separated  from  her.     He  ])ainted  himself  black,  and 


THE    BAD    WIFE  4' 

walked  all  through  the  camp,  crying.  His  wife  had  many 
relations,  and  some  of  them  went  to  the  man  and  said  : 
"  We  pity  you  very  much.  AVe  mourn,  too,  for  our  sister. 
But  come.     Take  courage.     We  will  go  with  you,  and  try 

to  get  her  back." 

"  It  is  good,"  replied  the  man.     "  I  feel  as  if  I  should  die, 
stopping  uselessly  here.     Let  us  start  soon." 

That  evening  they  got  ready,  and  at  daylight  started  out 
on  foot.  There  were  seven  of  them  in  all.  The  husband, 
five  middle-aged  men,  the  woman's  relations,  and  a  young 
man,  her  own  young  brother.  He  was  a  very  pretty  boy. 
His  hair  was  longer  than  any  other  person's  in  camp. 

They  soon  found  the  trail  of  the  war  party,  and  followed 
it  for  some  days.      At  last  they  came  to  the  Big  River,^  and 
there,  on  the  other  side,  they  saw  many  lodges.     They  crept 
down  a  could-e  into  the  valley,  and  hid  in  a  small  piece  of 
timber  just  opposite  the  camp,     Toward  evening  the  man 
said  :  "A'v/,  my  brothers.     To-night  I  will  swim  across  and 
look  all  through  the  camp  for  my  wife.     If  I  do  not  find  her, 
I  will  cache  and  look  again  to-  morrow  evening.     But  if  I  do 
not  return  before  daylight  of  the  second  night,  then  you  will 
know  I  am  killed.     Then  you  will  do  as  you  think  best. 
Maybe  you  will  want  to  take  revenge.     Maybe  you  will  go 
right  back  home.     That  will  be  as  your  hearts  feel." 

As  soon  as  it  was  dark,  he  swam  across  the  river  and  went 
all  about  through  the  camp,  peeping  in  through  the  doorways 
of  the  lodges,  but  he  did  not  see  his  wife.     Still,  he  knew 
she  must  be  there.     He  had  followed  the  trail  of  the  party 
to  this  place.     They  had  not  killed  her  on  the  way.     He 
kept  looking  in  at  the  lodges  until  it  was  late,  and  the  people 
let  the  fires  go  out  and  went  to  bed.     Then  the  man  went 
down  to  where  the  women  got  their  water  from  the  river. 
Everywhere  along  the  stream  was  a  cut  bank,  but  in  one 
place  a  path  of  steps  had  been  made  down  to  the  water's 

1  Missouri  River. 


42 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


lit; 


edge.  Near  this  path,  he  (hig  a  hole  in  tlie  bank  and 
crawled  into  it,  closing  up  the  entrance,  except  one  small 
hole,  through  which  he  could  look,  and  watch  the  people  who 
came  to  the  river. 

As  soon  as  it  was  daylight,  the  women  began  to  come  for 
water.  Turn,  turn,  turn,  turn,  he  could  hear  their  footsteps 
as  they  came  down  the  path,  and  he  looked  eagerly  at  every 
one.  All  day  long  the  people  came  and  went,  —  the  young 
and  old ;  and  the  children  played  about  near  him.  He  saw 
many  strange  people  that  day.  It  was  now  almost  sunset, 
and  he  began  to  think  that  he  would  not  see  his  wife  there. 
Turn,  turn,  turn,  titm,  another  woman  came  down  the  steps, 
and  stopped  at  the  water's  edge.  Her  dress  was  strange, 
but  he  thought  he  knew  the  form.  Slie  turned  her  head  and 
looked  down  the  river,  and  he  saw  her  face.  It  was  his  wife. 
He  pushed  away  the  dirt,  crawled  out,  went  to  her  and 
kissed  her.  "A'lv,"  he  said,  "  hurry,  and  let  us  swim  across 
the  river.  Five  of  your  relations  and  your  own  young 
brother  are  waiting  for  us  in  that  piece  of  timber." 

"Wait,"  replied  his  wife.  "These  people  have  given  me 
a  great  many  pretty  things.  Let  me  go  back.  When  it  is 
night  I  will  gather  them  up,  steal  a  horse,  and  cross  over  to 
you." 

"  No,  no,"  cried  the  man.  "  Let  the  pretty  things  go ; 
come,  let  us  cross  at  once." 

"  Pity  me,"  said  the  woman.  "Let  me  go  and  get  my 
things.     I  will  surely  come  to-night.     I  speak  the  truth." 

"  How  do  you  speak  the  truth?"  '  asked  her  husband. 

"  That  my  relations  there  across  the  river  may  be  safe  and 
live  long,  I  speak  the  truth." 

"  Go  then,"  said  the  man,  "  and  get  your  things.  I  will 
cross  the  river  now."  He  went  up  on  the  bank  and  walked 
down  the  river,  keei)ing  his  face  hidden.  No  one  noticed 
him,  or  if  they  did.  they  thouglit  he  belonged  to  the  camp. 

1  Blackfoot  —  Tsa-ki-an-ist-o-man-i  f  .  i.e.,  How  you  like  truth  ? 


THE    BAD    WIFE 


43 


As  soon  as  he  had  passed  the  first  bend,  he  swam  across  the 
river,  and  soon  joined  his  relations. 

"  I  have  seen  my  wife,"  he  said  to  them.  "  She  will  come 
over  as  soon  as  it  is  dark.  I  let  her  go  back  to  get  some 
things  that  were  given  her." 

"  You  are  crazy,"  said  one  of  the  men,  "  very  crazy. 
She  already  loves  this  new  man  she  has,  or  she  would  not 
have  wanted  to  go  back." 

"  Stop  that,"  said  the  husband ;  "  do  not  talk  bad  of  her. 
She  will  surely  come." 

Ill 

The  woman  went  back  to  her  lodge  with  the  water,  and, 
sitting  down  near  the  fireplace,  she  began  to  act  very 
strangely.  She  took  up  pieces  of  charred  wood,  dirt,  and 
ashes  in  her  hands  and  ate  them,  and  made  queer  noises. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  man  who  had  taken  her  for  a 
wife.  "What  is  the  matter  with  you?"  He  spoke  in 
signs. 

The  woman  also  spoke  in  signs.  She  answered  him  : 
"  The  Sun  told  me  that  there  are  seven  persons  across  the 
river  in  that  piece  of  timber.  Five  of  them  are  middle-aged, 
another  is  a  young  boy  with  very  long  hair,  another  is  a  man 
who  mourns.     His  hair  is  cut  short." 

The  Snake  did  not  know  what  to  do,  so  he  called  in  some 
chiefs  and  old  men  to  advise  with  him.  They  thought  that 
the  woman  might  be  very  strong  medicine.  At  all  events, 
it  would  be  a  good  thing  to  go  and  look.  So  the  news  was 
shouted  out,  and  in  a  short  time  all  the  warriors  had 
mounted  their  best  horses,  and  started  across  the  river.  It 
was  then  almost  dark,  so  they  surrounded  the  piece  of  tim- 
ber, and  waited  for  morning  to  begin  the  search. 

"Aj/,"  said  one  of  the  woman's  relations  to  her  husband. 
"  Did  I  not  speak  the  truth  ?  You  see  now  what  that  woman 
has  done  for  us." 


44 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


At  daylight  the  poor  husband  strung  his  bow,  took  a 
handful  of  arrows  from  his  quiver,  and  said  :  "  This  is  my 
fault.  I  have  brought  you  to  this.  It  is  right  that  I  should 
(lie  first,"  and  he  started  to  go  out  of  the  timber. 

"  Wait,"  said  the  eldest  relative.  "  It  shall  not  be  so.  I 
am  the  first  to  go.  I  cannot  stay  back  to  see  my  brother 
(lie.  You  shall  go  out  last."  So  he  jumped  out  of  the 
brush,  and  began  shooting  his  arrows,  but  was  soon  killed. 

"  My  brother  is  too  far  on  the  road  alone,"  '  cried  another 
relation,  and  he  jumped  out  and  fought,  too.  What  use,  one 
against  so  many?    The  Snakes  soon  had  his  scalp. 

So  they  went  out,  one  after  another,  and  at  last  the  hus- 
band was  alone.  He  rushed  out  very  brave,  and  shot  his 
arrows  as  fast  as  he  could.  "  Hold  !  "  cried  the  Snake  man 
to  his  people.  "  Do  not  kill  him  ;  catch  him.  This  is  the 
one  my  wife  said  to  bring  back  alive.  See  !  his  hair  is  cut 
short."  So,  when  the  man  had  shot  away  all  his  arrows, 
they  seized  and  tied  him,  and,  taking  the  scalps  of  the 
others,  returned  to  camp. 

They  took  the  prisoner  into  the  lodge  where  his  wife  was. 
His  hands  were  tied  behind  his  back,  and  they  tied  his  feet, 
too.     He  could  not  move. 

As  soon  as  the  man  saw  his  wife,  he  cried.  He  was  not 
afraid.  He  did  not  care  now  how  soon  he  died.  He  cried 
because  he  was  thinking  of  all  the  trouble  and  death  this 
woman  had  caused.  "  What  have  I  done  to  you,"  he  asked 
his  wife,  "  that  you  should  treat  me  this  way?  Did  I  not 
always  use  you  well  ?  I  never  struck  you.  I  never  made 
you  work  hard." 

"What  does  he  say?"  asked  the  Snake  man. 

"  He  says,"  replied  the  woman,  "  that  when  you  are  done 
smoking,  you  must  knock  the  ashes  and  fire  out  of  your  pipe 
on  his  breast." 


1  Meaning  that  his  brother's  spirit,  or  shadow,  was  travelling  alone  the 
road  to  the  Sand  Hills,  and  that  he  must  overtake  him. 


THE    BAD    WIFE  45 

The  Snake  was  not  a  bad-hearted  man,  but  he  thought 
now  that  this  woman  had  strong  medicine,  that  she  had  Sun 
power ;  so  he  thought  that  everything  must  be  done  as  she 
said.  When  the  man  had  finished  smoking,  he  emptied  the 
pipe  on  the  Piegan's  breast,  and  the  fire  burned  him  badly. 

Then  the  poor  man  cried  again,  not  from  the  pain,  but  to 
think  what  a  bad  heart  this  woman  had.  Again  he  spoke 
to  her.  "  You  cannot  be  a  person,"  he  said.  "  I  think  you 
are  some  fearful  animal,  changed  to  look  like  a  woman." 

"What  is  he  saying  now?"  asked  the  Snake. 

"  He  wants  some  boiling  water  poured  on  his  head,"  re- 
plied t'T*  woman. 

"  It  shall  be  as  he  says,"  said  the  Snake ;  and  he  had  his 
women  heat  some  water.  When  it  was  ready,  one  of  them 
poured  a  little  of  it  here  and  there  on  the  captive's  head 
and  shoulders.  Wherever  the  hot  water  touched,  the  hair 
came  out  and  the  skin  peeled  off.  The  pain  was  so  bad 
that  the  Piegan  nearly  fainted.  When  he  revived,  he  said  to 
his  wife  :  "  Pity  me.  I  have  suffered  enough.  Let  them  kill 
me  now.  Let  me  hurry  to  join  those  who  are  already  trav- 
elling to  the  Sand  Hills." 

The  woman  turned  to  the  Snake  chief,  and  said,  "  The 
man  says  that  he  wants  you  to  give  him  to  the  Sun." 

"It  is  good,"  said  the  Snake.  "To-morrow  we  move 
camp.     Before  we  leave  here,  we  will  give  him  to  the  Sun." 

There  was  an  old  woman  in  this  camp  who  lived  all  alone, 
in  a  little  lodge  of  her  own.  She  had  some  friends  and 
relations,  but  she  said  she  liked  to  live  by  herself.  She  had 
heard  that  a  Piegan  had  been  captured,  and  went  to  the 
lodge  where  he  was.  When  she  saw  them  pour  the  boiling 
water  on  him,  she  cried  and  felt  badly.  This  old  woman 
had  a  very  good  heart.  She  went  home  and  lay  down  by 
her  dog,  and  kept  crying,  she  felt  so  sorry  for  this  poor  man. 
Pretty  soon  she  heard  people  shouting  out  the  orders  of  the 
chief.    They  said  :  "  Listen  !  listen  !    To-morrow  we  move 


46  STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 

camp.    Get  ready  now  and  pack  up  everything.     Before  we 
go,  the  Piegan  man  v  M  be  given  to  the  Sun." 

Then  the  old  wonuin  knew  what  to  do.  She  tied  a  piece 
of  buckskin  around  her  dog's  mouth,  so  he  could  not  bark, 
and  then  she  took  him  way  out  in  the  timber  and  tied  him 
where  he  could  not  be  seen.  She  also  filled  a  small  sack 
with  pemmican,  dried  meat,  and  berries,  and  put  it  near 
the  dog. 

In  the  morning  the  people  rose  early.  They  smoothed  a 
cotton-wood  tree,  by  taking  off  the  bark,  and  painted  it 
black.  Then  they  stood  the  Piegan  up  against  it,  and 
fastened  him  there  with  a  great  many  ropes.  When  they 
had  tied  him  so  he  could  not  move,  they  painted  his  face 
Mi  .      black,  and  the  chief  Snake  made  a  prayer,  and  gave  him  to 

''  the  Sun. 

I  Every  one  was  now  busy  getting  ready  to  move  camp. 

This  old  woman  had  lost  her  dog,  and  kept  calling  out  for 
I  him  and  looking  all  around.    "  Tj-zV'-/.'"' she  cried.    "Tsis'-i! 

Come  here.    Knock  the  dog  on  the  head  !  ^    Wait  till  I  find 
him,  and  I'll  break  his  neck." 

The  people  were  now  all  packed  up,  and  some  had  already 
started  on  the  trail.  "Don't  wait  for  me,"  the  old  woman 
said.  "Go  on,  I'll  look  again  for  my  dog,  and  catch  up 
with  you." 

When  all  were  gone,  the  old  woman  went  and  untied  her 
dog,  and  then,  going  up  to  where  the  Piegan  was  tied,  she 
cut  the  ropes,  and  he  was  free.  But  already  the  man  was 
very  weak,  and  he  fell  down  on  the  ground.  She  rubbed 
his  limbs,  and  pretty  soon  he  felt  better.  The  old  woman 
was  so  sorry  for  him  that  she  cried  again,  and  kissed  him. 
Then  the  man  cried,  too.  He  was  so  glad  that  some  one 
pitied  him.  By  and  by  he  ate  some  of  the  food  the  old 
woman  had  given  him,  and  felt  strong  again.  He  said  to 
her  in  signs  :  "  I  am  not  done.      I  shall  go  back  home  now, 

1 A  Blackfooi  curse. 


,1 

li 


it 


THE    UAD    WIFE  47 

but  I  will  come  again.  I  will  bring  all  the  Piegans  with  me, 
and  we  will  have  revenge." 

"  You  say  well,"  signed  the  old  woman. 

"  Help  me,"  again  said  the  man.  "  If,  on  the  road  you 
are  travelling,  this  camp  should  separate,  mark  the  trail  my 
wife  takes  with  a  stick.  You,  too,  follow  the  party  she  goes 
with,  and  always  put  your  lodge  at  the  far  end  of  the  vil- 
lage. When  I  return  with  my  people,  I  will  enter  your  lodge, 
and  tell  you  what  to  do." 

"I  take  your  speech,"  replied  the  old  woman.  "As  you 
say,  so  it  shall  be."  Then  she  kissed  him  again,  and  started 
on  after  her  people.  The  man  went  to  the  river,  swam 
across,  and  started  for  the  North. 

IV 

Why  are  the  people  crying  ?  Why  is  all  this  mourning  ? 
Ah  !  the  poor  man  has  returned  home,  and  told  how  those 
who  went  with  him  were  killed.  He  has  told  them  the 
whole  story.  They  are  getting  ready  for  war.  Every  one 
able  to  fight  is  going  with  this  man  back  to  the  Snakes. 
Only  a  few  will  be  left  to  guard  the  camp.  The  mother  of 
that  bad  woman  is  going,  too.  She  has  sharpened  her  axe, 
and  told  what  slie  will  do  when  she  sees  her  daughter.  All 
are  ready.  The  best  horses  have  been  caught  up  and  sad- 
dled, and  the  war  party  has  started,  — hundreds  and  hundreds 
of  warriors.  They  are  strung  out  over  the  prairie  as  far  as 
you  can  see. 

When  they  got  to  the  Missouri  River,  the  poor  man  showed 
them  where  the  lodge  in  which  they  had  tortured  him  had 
stood.  He  took  them  to  see  the  tree,  where  he  had  been 
bound.     The  black  paint  was  still  on  it. 

From  here,  they  went  slowly.  Some  young  men  were 
sent  far  ahead  to  scout.  The  second  day,  they  came  back 
to  the  main  body,  and  said  they  had  found  a  camping  place 


48 


STOKIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


just  deserted,  and  that  there  the  trail  forked.  The  poor 
man  then  went  ahead,  and  at  the  forks  he  found  a  willow 
twig  stuck  in  the  ground,  pointing  to  the  left  hand  trail. 
When  the  others  came  up,  he  said  to  them  :  "Take  care  of 
my  horse  now,  and  travel  slowly.  I  will  go  ahead  on  foot 
and  find  the  camp.  It  must  be  close.  I  will  go  and  see 
that  old  woman,  and  find  out  how  things  are." 

Some  men  did  not  want  him  to  do  this  ;  they  said  that  the 
old  woman  might  tell  about  him,  and  then  they  could  not 
surprise  the  camp. 

"  No,"  replied  the  man.  "  It  will  not  be  so.  That  old 
woman  is  almost  the  same  as  my  mother.  I  know  she  will 
help  us." 

He  went  ahead  carefully,  and  near  sunset  saw  the  camp. 
When  it  was  dark,  he  crept  near  it  and  entered  the  old 
woman's  lodge.  She  had  placed  it  behind,  and  a  little  way 
off  from,  the  others.  When  he  went  in  the  old  woman  was 
asleep,  but  the  fire  was  still  burning  a  little.  He  touched 
her,  and  she  jumped  up  and  started  to  scream  ;  but  he  put 
his  hand  on  her  mouth,  and  when  she  saw  who  it  was  she 
laughed  and  kissed  him.  "The  Piegans  have  come,"  he 
told  her.  "  We  are  going  to  have  revenge  on  this  camp 
to-night.     Is  my  wife  here?" 

"Still  here,"  replied  the  old  woman.  "She  is  chief  now. 
They  think  her  medicine  very  strong." 

"Tell  your  friends  and  relations,"  said  the  Piegan,  "  that 
you  have  had  a  dream,  and  that  they  must  move  into  the 
brush  yonder.  Have  them  stay  there  with  you,  and  they 
will  not  be  hurt.     I  am  going  now  to  get  my  people." 

It  was  very  late  in  the  night.  Most  of  the  Snakes  were  in 
bed  and  asleep.  All  at  once  the  camp  was  surrounded  with 
warriors,  shouting  the  war  cry  and  shooting,  stabbing,  and 
knocking  people  on  the  head  as  fast  as  they  came  out  of 
the  lodges. 


THE    HAD    WIFE 


49 


That  Piegan  woman  cried  out :  "  Don't  hurt  me.  I  am  a 
Piegan.     Are  any  of  my  people  here  ?  " 

"  Many  of  your  relations  are  here,"  some  one  said.  "They 
will  protect  you." 

Some  young  men  seized  and  tied  her,  as  her  husband  had 
said  to  do.  They  had  hard  work  to  keep  her  mother  from 
killing  her.  "//<//)<////"  the  old  woman  cried.  "There  is 
my  Snake  woman  daughter.     Let  me  split  her  head  open." 

The  fight  was  soon  over.  The  Piegans  killed  the  people 
almost  as  fast  as  they  came  out  of  their  lodges.  Some  few 
escaped  in  the  darkness.  When  the  fight  was  over,  the 
young  warriors  gathered  up  a  great  pile  of  lodge  poles  and 
brush,  and  set  fire  to  it.  Then  the  poor  man  tore  the  dress 
off  his  bad  wife,  tied  the  scalp  of  her  dead  Snake  man 
around  her  neck,  and  told  her  to  dance  the  scalp  dance  in 
the  fire.  She  cried  and  hung  back,  calling  out  for  pity. 
The  jjeople  only  laughed  and  pushed  her  into  the  fire. 
She  would  run  through  it,  and  then  those  on  the  other  side 
would  push  her  back.  So  they  kept  her  running  through 
the  fire,  until  she  fell  down  and  died. 

The  old  Snake  woman  had  come  out  of  the  brush  with 
her  relations.  Because  she  had  been  so  good,  the  Piegans 
gave  her,  and  those  with  her,  one-half  of  all  the  horses  and 
valuable  things  they  had  taken.  "Kyi/"  said  the  Piegan 
chief.  "That  is  all  for  you,  because  you  helped  this  poor 
man.  To-morrow  morning  we  start  back  North.  If  your 
heart  is  that  way,  go  too  and  live  with  us."  So  these  Snakes 
joined  the  Piegans  and  lived  with  them  until  they  died,  and 
their  children  married  with  the  Piegans,  and  at  last  they 
were  no  longer  Snake  people.' 

1  When  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  first  established  a  fort  at  Edmonton, 
a  daughter  nl  one  ot  these  Snakes  married  a  white  employee  of  the  company, 
named,  in  Biackfoot,  O-wai,  Egg. 


THE   LOST   CHILDREN 


Once  a  camp  of  people  stopped  -on  the  bank  of  a  river. 
There  were  but  a  few  lodges  of  them.  One  day  the  little 
children  in  the  camp  crossed  the  river  to  play  on  the  other 
side.  For  some  time  they  stayed  near  the  bank,  and  then 
they  went  up  over  a  little  hill,  and  found  a  bed  of  sand  and 
gravel ;  and  there  they  played  for  a  long  time. 

There  were  eleven  of  these  children.  Two  of  them  were 
daughters  of  the  chief  of  the  camp,  and  the  smaller  of 
these  wanted  the  best  of  everything.  If  any  child  found  a 
pretty  stone,  she  would  try  to  take  it  for  herself.  The  other 
children  did  not  like  this,  and  they  began  to  tease  the  little 
girl,  and  to  take  her  things  away  from  her.  Then  she  got 
angry  and  began  to  cry,  and  the  more  she  cried,  the  more 
the  children  teased  her ;  so  at  last  she  and  her  sister  left  the 
others,  and  went  back  to  the  camp. 

When  they  got  there,  they  told  their  father  what  the  other 
children  had  done  to  them,  and  this  made  the  chief  very 
angry.  He  thought  for  a  little  while,  and  then  got  up  and 
went  out  of  the  lodge,  and  called  aloud,  so  that  everybody 
might  hear,  saying  :  "  Listen  I  listen  !  Your  children  have 
teased  my  child  and  made  her  cry.  Now  we  will  move 
away,  and  leave  them  behind.  If  they  come  liack  before 
we  get  started,  they  shall  be  killed.  If  they  follow  us  and 
overtake  the  camp,  they  shall  bo  killed.  If  the  father  and 
mother  of  any  one  of  them  take  them  into  their  lodge,  I 
will   kill    that    father  and  mother.     Hurry  now,  hurry  and 

5" 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN  5^ 

pack  up,  SO  that  we   can   go.     Everybody  tear  down  the 
lodges,  as  quickly  as  you  can." 

When  the  people  heard  this,  they  felt  very  sorry,  but 
they  had  to  do  as  the  chief  said ;  so  they  tore  down  the 
lodges,  and  quickly  packed  the  dog  travois,  and  started  off. 
They  packed  in  such  a  hurry  that  they  left  many  little 
things  lying  in  camp,  —  knives  and  awls,  bone  needles  and 
moccasins. 

The  little  children  played  about  in  the  sand  for  a  long  time, 
but  at  last  they  began  to  get  hungry;  and  one  little  girl 
said  to  the  others,  "  I  will  go  back  to  the  camp,  and  get 
some  dried  meat  and  bring  it  here,  so  that  we  may  eat." 
And  she  started  to  go  to  the  camp.     When  she  came  to  the 
top  of  the  hill  and  looked  across  the  river,  she  saw  that 
there   were  no  lodges  there,  and  did  not  know  what   to 
think  of  it.     She  called   down  to  the  children,  and  said, 
"  The  camp  has  gone  "  ;  but  they  did  not  believe  her,  and 
went  on  playing.     She  kept  on  calling,  and  at  last  some  of 
them  came  to  her,  and  then  all,  and  saw  that  it  was  as  she 
had  said.     They  went  down  to  the  river,  and  crossed  it, 
and  went  to  where  the  lodges  had  stood.     When  they  got 
there,  they  saw  on  the  ground  the  things  that  had  been  left 
out  in  packing ;  and  as  each  child  saw  and  knew  something 
that  had  belonged  to  its  own  parents,  it  cried  and  sang  a 
little  song,  saying  :  "  Mother,  here  is  your  bone  needle  ;  why 
did  you  leave  your  children?"    "  Father,  here  is  your  arrow  ; 
why  did  you  leave  your  children  ?  "     It  was  very  mournful, 
and  they  all  cried. 

There  was  among  them  a  little  girl  who  had  on  her  back 
her  baby  brother,  whom  she  loved  dearly.  He  was  very 
young,  a  nursing  child,  and  already  he  was  hungry  and 
beginning  to  fret.  This  little  girl  said  to  the  others  :  "  We 
do  not  know  why  they  have  gone,  but  we  know  they  have 
gone.  We  must  follow  the  trail  of  the  camp,  and  try  to 
catch  up  with  them."     So  the  children  started  to  follow  the 


52 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


camp.  They  travelled  on  all  day;  and  just  at  night  they 
saw,  near  the  trail,  a  little  lodge.  They  had  heard  the 
people  talk  of  a  bad  old  woman  who  killed  and  ate  persons, 
and  some  of  the  children  thought  that  this  old  woman 
might  live  here ;  and  they  were  afraid  to  go  to  the  lodge. 
Others  said  :  "  Perhaps  some  person  lives  here  who  has  a 
good  heart.  We  are  very  tired  and  very  hungry  and  have 
nothing  to  eat  and  no  place  to  keep  warm.  Let  us  go  to 
this  lodge." 

They  went  to  it ;  and  when  they  went  in,  they  saw  sitting 
by  the  fire  an  old  woman.  She  spoke  kindly  to  them,  and 
asked  them  where  they  were  travelling  ;  and  they  told  her 
that  the  camp  had  moved  on  and  left  them,  an<l  that  they 
were  trying  to  find  their  people,  that  they  had  nothing  to 
eat,  and  were  tired  and  hungry.  The  old  woman  fed  them, 
and  told  them  to  sleep  here  to-night,  and  to-morrow  they 
could  go  on  and  find  their  people.  "The  camp,"  she  said, 
"  passed  here  to-ilay  when  the  sun  was  low.  They  have 
not  gone  far.  To-morrow  you  will  overtake  them."  She 
spread  some  robes  on  the  ground  and  said  :  "  Now  lie  here 
and  sleep.  Lie  side  by  side  with  your  heads  toward  the 
fire,  and  when  morning  comes,  you  can  go  on  your  journey." 
The  children  lay  down  and  soon  slept. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night,  the  old  woman  got  up,  and 
built  a  big  fire,  and  put  on  it  a  big  stone  kettle,  full  of 
water.  Then  she  took  a  big  knife,  and,  commencing  at  one 
end  of  the  row,  began  to  cut  off  the  heads  of  the  children, 
and  to  throw  them  into  the  pot.  The  little  girl  with  the  baby 
brother  lay  at  the  other  end  of  the  row,  and  while  the  old 
woman  was  doing  this,  she  awoke  and  saw  what  was  taking 
place.  When  the  old  woman  came  near  to  her,  she  jumped 
up  and  began  to  beg  that  she  would  not  kill  her.  "  I  am 
strong,"  she  said.  "  I  will  work  hard  for  you.  I  can  bring 
your  wood  and  water,  and  tan  your  skins.  Do  not  kill  my 
little  brother  and  me.     'Lake  pity  on  us  and  save  us  alive 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN 


S3 


„ 


Everybody  has  left  us,  but  do  you  have  pity.  You  shall  see 
how  quickly  I  will  work,  how  you  will  always  have  plenty  of 
wood.  I  can  work  quickly  and  well."  The  old  woman 
thought  for  a  little  while,  then  she  said  :  "  Well,  I  will  let  you 
live  for  a  time,  anyhow.     You  shall  sleep  safely  to-night." 

The  next  day,  early,  the  little  girl  took  her  brother  on 
her  back,  and  went  out  and  gathered  a  big  pile  of  wood, 
and  brought  it  to  the  lodge  before  the  old  woman  was 
awake.  When  she  got  up,  she  called  to  the  girl,  "  Go  to 
the  river  and  get  a  bucket  of  water,"  The  girl  put  her 
brother  on  her  back,  and  took  the  bucket  to  go.  The  old 
woman  said  to  her :  "  Why  do  you  carry  that  child  every- 
where? Leave  him  here."  The  girl  said  :  "Not  so.  He  is 
always  with  me,  and  if  I  leave  him  he  will  cry  and  make  a 
great  noise,  and  you  will  not  like  that."  The  old  woman 
grumbled,  but  the  girl  went  on  tlown  to  the  river. 

When  she  got  there,  just  as  she  was  going  to  fill  her 
bucket,  she  saw  stantling  by  her  a  great  bull.  It  was  a 
mountain  buffalo,  one  of  those  who  live  in  the  timber ;  and 
the  long  hair  of  its  head  was  all  full  of  pine  needles  and 
sticks  and  branches,  and  matted  together.  (It  was  a  Su'ye- 
s/ii'mik,  a  water  bull.)  When  the  girl  saw  him,  she  prayed 
him  to  take  her  across  the  river,  and  so  to  save  her  and  her 
little  brother  from  the  bad  old  woman.  The  bull  said,  "  I 
will  take  you  across,  but  first  you  must  take  some  of  the 
sticks  out  of  my  head."  The  girl  begged  him  to  start  at 
once  ;  but  the  bull  said,  "  No,  first  take  the  sticks  out  of  my 
head."  The  girl  began  to  do  it,  but  before  she  had  done 
much,  she  heard  the  old  woman  calling  to  her  to  bring  the 
water.  The  girl  called  back,  "  I  am  trying  to  get  the  water 
clear,"  and  went  on  fixing  the  buffalo's  head.  The  old 
woman  called  again,  saying,  "  Hurry,  hurry  with  that  water." 
The  girl  answered,  "  Wait,  I  am  washing  my  little  brother." 
Pretty  soon  the  old  woman  called  out,  "  If  you  don't  bring 
that  water,  I  will  kill  you  and  your  brother."     By  this  time 


54 


STORIES    OF   ADVENTURE 


the  girl  had  most  of  the  sticks  out  of  the  bull's  head,  and  he 
told  her  to  get  on  his  back,  and  went  into  the  water  and 
swam  with  her  across  the  river.  As  he  reached  the  other 
bank,  the  girl  could  see  the  old  woman  coming  from  her 
lodge  down  to  the  river  with  a  big  stick  in  her  hand. 

When  the  bull  reached  the  bank,  the  girl  jumped  off  his 
back  and  started  off  on  the  trail  of  the  camp.  The  bull 
swam  back  again  to  the  other  side  of  the  river,  and  there 
stood  the  old  woman.  This  bull  was  a  sort  of  servant  of 
the  old  woman.  She  said  to  him  :  "  Why  did  you  take  those 
children  across  the  river  ?  Take  me  on  your  back  now  and 
carry  me  across  quickly,  so  that  I  can  catch  them."  The 
bull  said,  "  First  take  these  sticks  out  of  my  head."  "  No," 
said  the  old  woman  ;  "  first  take  me  across,  then  I  will  take 
the  sticks  out."  The  bull  repeated,  "  First  take  the  sticks 
out  of  my  head,  then  I  will  take  you  across."  This  made 
the  old  woman  very  mad,  and  she  hit  him  with  the  stick 
she  had  in  her  hand  ;  but  when  she  saw  that  he  would  not 
go,  she  began  to  pull  the  sticks  out  of  his  head  very  roughly, 
tearing  out  great  handfuls  of  hair,  and  every  moment  order- 
ing him  to  go,  and  threatening  what  she  would  do  to  him 
when  she  got  back.  At  last  the  bull  took  her  on  his  back, 
and  began  to  swim  across  with  her,  but  he  did  not  swim  fast 
enough  to  please  her,  so  she  began  to  pound  him  with  her 
club  to  make  him  go  faster ;  and  when  the  bull  got  to  the 
middle  of  the  river,  he  rolled  over  on  his  side,  and  the  old 
woman  slipped  off,  and  was  carried  down  the  river  and 
drowned. 

The  girl  followed  the  trail  of  the  camp  for  several  days, 
feeding  on  berries  and  roots  that  she  dug  ;  and  at  last  one 
night  after  dark  she  overtook  the  camp.  She  went  into  the 
lodge  of  an  old  woman,  who  was  camped  off  at  one  side, 
and  the  old  woman  pitied  her  and  gave  her  some  food,  and 
told  her  where  her  father's  lodge  was.  The  girl  went  to  it, 
but  when  she  went  in,  her  parents  would  not  receive  her. 


I.' 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN 


55 


» 


!>' 


She  had  tried  to  overtake  them  for  the  sake  of  her  little 
brother,  who  was  growing  thin  and  weak  because  he  had  not 
nursed ;  and  now  her  mother  was  afraid  to  have  her  stay 
with  them.  She  even  went  and  told  the  chief  that  her 
children  had  come  back.  Now  when  the  chief  heard  that 
these  two  children  had  come  back,  he  was  angry ;  and  he 
ordered  that  the  next  day  they  should  be  tied  to  a  post  in 
the  camp,  and  that  the  people  should  move  on  and  leave 
them  here.     "  Then."  he  said,  "  they  cannot  follow  us." 

The  old  woman  who  had  pitied  the  children,  when  she 
heard  what  the  chief  had  ordered,  made  up  a  bundle  of 
dried  meat,  and  hid  it  in  the  grass  near  the  camp.  Then  she 
called  her  dog  to  her,  —  a  little  curly  dog.  She  said  to  the 
dog :  — 

"  Now  listen.  To-morrow  when  we  are  ready  to  start,  I  will 
call  you  to  come  to  me,  but  you  must  pay  no  attention  to 
what  I  say.  Run  off,  and  pretend  to  be  chasing  squirrels. 
I  will  try  to  catch  you,  and  if  I  do  so,  I  will  pretend  to  whip 
you  ;  but  do  not  follow  me.  Stay  behind,  and  when  the 
camp  has  passed  out  of  sight,  chew  off  the  strings  that  bind 
those  children ;  and  when  you  have  done  this,  show  them 
where  I  have  hidden  that  food.  Then  you  can  follow  the 
camp  and  catch  up  to  us."  The  dog  stood  before  the  old 
woman,  and  listened  to  all  that  she  said,  turning  his  head 
from  side  to  side,  as  if  paying  close  attention. 

Next  morning  it  was  done  as  the  chief  had  said.  The 
chiklren  were  tied  to  the  tree  with  raw  hide  strings,  and  the 
people  tore  down  all  the  lodges  and  moved  off.  The  old 
woman  called  her  dog  to  follow  her,  but  he  was  digging  at  a 
gopher  hole  and  would  not  come.  Then  she  went  up  to 
him  and  struck  at  him  hard  ^vith  her  whip,  but  he  dodged 
and  ran  away,  and  then  stood  looking  at  her.  Then  the  old 
woman  got  very  mail  and  cursed  him,  but  he  paid  no 
attention  ;  and  finally  she  left  him,  and  followed  the  camp. 
When  the  people  had  all  passed  out  of  sight,  the  dog  went 


^6  STOKIKS    OF    AOVKNTURE 

to  the  children,  and  gnawed  the  strings  which   tied   them, 
until  he  had  bitten  them  through.     So  the  children  were  free. 

Then  the  dog  was  glail,  and  danced  about  and  barked  and 
ran  round  and  round.  Pretty  soon  he  came  up  to  the  little 
girl,  and  look<'d  up  in  her  face,  and  then  started  away,  trot- 
ting. F.very  little  while  he  would  stop  and  look  back.  The 
girl  thought  he  wanted  her  to  follow  him.  She  did  so,  and 
he  took  her  to  where  the  bundle  of  dried  meat  was,  and 
showed  it  to  her.  Then,  when  he  had  done  this,  he  jumped 
up  on  her,  and  licked  the  baby's  face,  and  then  started  off, 
running  as  hard  as  he  could  along  the  trail  of  the  camp, 
never  stopping  to  look  back.  The  girl  did  not  follow  him. 
She  now  knew  that  it  was  no  use  to  go  to  the  camp  again. 
Their  parents  would  not  receive  them,  and  the  chief 
would  perhaps  order  them  to  be  killed. 

She  went  on  her  way,  carrying  her  little  brother  and  the 
bundle  of  dried  meat.  She  travelled  for  many  days,  and  at 
last  came  to  a  place  where  she  thought  she  would  stop. 
Here  she  built  a  little  lodge  of  i)oles  and  brush,  and  stayed 
there.  One  night  she  had  a  dream,  and  an  old  woman 
came  to  her  in  the  dream,  and  said  to  her,  "To-morrow 
take  your  little  brother,  and  tie  him  to  one  of  the  lodge 
poles,  and  the  next  day  tie  him  to  another,  and  so  every  day 
tie  him  to  one  of  the  poles,  until  you  have  gone  all  around 
the  lodge  and  have  tied  him  to  each  pole.  Then  you  will 
be  helped,  and  will  no  more  have  bad  luck." 

When  the  girl  awoke  in  the  morning,  she  remembered 
what  the  dream  had  told  her,  and  she  bound  her  little 
brother  to  one  of  the  lodge  poles  ;  and  each  day  after  this 
she  tied  him  to  one  of  the  poles.  Each  day  he  grew  larger, 
until,  when  she  had  gone  all  around  the  lodge,  he  was 
grown  to  be  a  fine  young  man. 

Now  the  girl  was  glad,  and  proud  of  her  young  brother 
who  was  so  large  and  noble-loijking.  He  was  quiet,  not 
speaking  much,  and  sometimes  for  days  he  would  not  say 


1 


1 


I 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN  57 

anything.  He  seemed  to  be  thinking  all  the  time.  One 
morning  he  told  the  girl  that  he  had  a  dream  and  that  he 
wished  her  to  help  him  build  a  pis'kun.  She  was  afraid  to 
ask  him  about  the  dream,  for  she  thought  if  she  asked  ques- 
tions he  might  not  like  it.  So  she  just  said  she  was  ready 
to  do  what  he  wished.  They  built  the  pis'kun,  and  when  it 
was  finished,  the  boy  said  to  his  sister :  "  The  buffalo  are  to 
come  to  us,  and  you  are  not  to  see  them.  When  the  time 
comes,  you  are  to  cover  your  head  and  to  hold  your  face 
close  to  the  ground  ;  and  do  not  lift  your  head  nor  look, 
until  I  throw  a  piece  of  kidney  to  you."  The  girl  said, 
"  It  shall  be  as  you  say." 

When  the  time  came,  the  boy  told  her  where  to  go ;  and 
she  went  to  the  place,  a  little  way  from  the  lodge,  not  far 
from  the  corral,  and  sat  down  on  the  ground,  and  covered 
her  head,  holding  her  face  close  to  the  earth.  After  she 
had  sat  there  a  little  while,  she  heard  the  sound  of  animals 
running,  and  she  was  excited  and  curious,  and  raised  her 
head  to  look  ;  but  all  she  saw  was  her  brother,  standing  near, 
looking  at  her.  Before  he  could  speak,  she  said  to  him  :  "  I 
thought  I  heard  buffalo  coming,  and  because  I  was  anxious 
for  food,  I  forgot  my  promise  and  looked.  Forgive  me  this 
time,  and  I  will  try  again."  Again  she  bent  her  face  to  the 
ground,  and  covered  her  head. 

Soon  she  heard  again  the  sound  of  animals  running,  at 
first  a  long  way  off,  and  then  coming  nearer  and  nearer, 
until  at  last  they  seemed  close,  and  she  thought  they  were 
going  to  run  over  her.  She  sprang  up  in  fright  and  looked 
about,  but  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  her  brother, 
looking  sadly  at  her.  She  went  close  to  him  and  said  :  "  Pity 
me.  I  was  afraid,  for  I  thought  the  buffalo  were  going  to 
run  over  me."  He  said:  "  This  is  the  last  J  me.  If  again 
you  look,  we  will  starve  ;  but  if  you  do  not  looV.,  we  will 
always  have  plenty,  and  will  never  be  without  meat."  The 
girl  looked  at  him,  and  said,  '*  I  will  try  hard  this  time,  and 


m 


58 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURK 


even  if  those  animals  run  right  over  mo,  I  will  not  look  until 
you  throw  the  kidney  to  me."  Again  she  covered  her  head, 
pressing  her  foce  against  the  earth  and  putting  her  hands 
against  her  ears,  so  that  she  might  not  hear.  Suddenly, 
sooner  than  she  thought,  she  felt  the  blow  from  the  meat 
thrown  at  her,  and,  springing  np,  she  seized  the  kidney  and 
began  to  eat  it.  Not  far  away  was  her  brother,  bending 
over  a  fat  cow  ;  and.  going  up  to  him,  she  helped  him  with  the 
butchering.  After  that  was  done,  she  kindled  a  fire  and  cooked 
the  best  parts  of  the  meat,  and  they  ate  and  were  satisfied. 

The  boy  became  a  great  hunter.  He  made  fine  arrows 
that  went  faster  than  a  bird  could  fly,  and  when  he  was 
hunting,  he  watched  all  the  animals  and  all  the  birds,  and 
learned  their  ways,  and  how  to  imitate  them  when  they 
called.  While  he  was  hunting,  the  girl  dressed  buffalo  hides 
and  the  skins  of  deer  and  other  animals.  She  made  a  fine 
new  lodge,  and  the  boy  painted  it  with  figures  of  all  the 
birds  and  the  animals  he  had  killed. 

One  day,  when  the  girl  was  bringing  water,  she  saw  a  little 
way  off  a  person  coming.  When  she  went  in  the  lodge, 
she  told  her  brother,  and  he  went  out  to  meet  the  stranger. 
He  found  that  he  was  friendly  and  was  hunting,  but  had  had 
bad  luck  and  killed  nothing.  He  was  starving  and  in  de- 
spair, when  he  saw  this  lone  lodge  and  made  up  his  mind  to 
go  to  it.  .'Vs  he  came  near  it,  he  began  to  be  afraid,  and 
to  wonder  if  the  people  who  lived  there  were  enemies  or 
ghosts ;  but  he  thought,  "  I  may  as  well  die  here  as  starve," 
sn  he  went  boldly  to  it.  The  strange  person  was  very  much 
surprised  to  see  this  handsome  young  man  with  the  kind 
face,  who  could  speak  his  own  language.  The  boy  took 
him  into  the  lodge,  and  the  girl  put  food  before  him.  After 
he  had  eaten,  he  told  his  story,  saying  that  the  game  had 
left  them,  and  that  many  of  his  people  were  dying  of  hun- 
ger. As  he  talked,  the  girl  listened  ;  and  at  last  she  remem- 
bered the  man,  and  knew  that  he  belonged  to  her  camp. 


1 


\ 


i 


J 


THE    LOST    CHILDREN  59 

She  asked  him  questions,  and  he  talked  about  all  the  people 
in  the  camp,  and  even  spoke  of  the  old  woman  who  owned 
the  dog.  The  boy  advised  the  stranger,  after  he  had  rested, 
to  return  to  his  camp,  and  tell  the  people  to  move  up  to 
this  place,  that  here  they  would  find  plenty  of  game.  After 
he  had  gone,  the  boy  and  his  sister  talked  of  these  things. 
The  girl  had  often  told  him  what  she  had  suffered,  what  the 
chief  had  said  and  done,  and  how  their  own  parents  had 
turned  against  her,  and  that  the  only  person  whose  heart 
had  been  good  to  her  was  this  old  woman.  As  the  young 
man  heard  all  this  again,  he  was  angry  at  his  parents  and 
the  chief,  but  he  felt  great  kindness  for  the  old  woman 
and  her  dog.  When  he  learned  that  those  bad  people 
were  living,  he  made  up  his  mind  that  they  should  suffer 
and  die. 

When  the  strange  person  reached  his  own  camj),  he  told 
the  people  how  well  he  had  been  treated  by  these  two 
persons,  and  that  they  wished  him  to  bring  the  whole  camp 
to  where  they  were,  and  that  there  they  should  have  plenty. 
This  made  great  joy  in  the  camp,  and  all  got  ready  to 
move.  When  they  reached  the  lost  children's  camp,  they 
found  everything  as  the  stranger  had  said.  The  brother 
gave  a  feast ;  and  to  those  whom  he  liked  he  gave  many 
presents,  but  to  the  old  woman  and  the  dog  he  gave  the 
best  presents  of  all.  To  the  chief  nothing  at  all  was  given, 
and  this  made  him  very  much  ashamed.  To  the  parents 
no  food  was  given,  but  the  boy  tied  a  bone  to  the  lodge 
poles  above  the  fire,  and  told  the  parents  to  eat  from  it 
without  touching  it  with  their  hands.  They  were  very 
hungry,  and  tried  to  eat  from  this  bone  ;  and  as  they  were 
stretching  out  their  necks  to  reach  it  —  for  it  was  above 
them — the  boy  cut  off  their  heads  with  his  knife.  This 
frightened  all  the  people,  the  chief  most  of  n"  ;  but  the  boy 
told  them  how  it  all  was,  and  how  he  and  his  sister  had 
survived. 


6o 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


When  he  had  finished  speaking,  the  chief  said  he  was 
sorry  for  what  he  had  done,  and  he  proposed  to  his  people 
that  this  young  man  should  be  made  their  chief.  They 
were  glad  to  do  this.  The  boy  was  made  the  chief,  and 
lived  long  to  rule  the  people  in  that  camp. 


I 


L 


f 


MIK-A'PI  —  RKD   OLD   MAN 


I 

It  was  in  the  valley  of  "  It  fell  on  them  "  '  Creek,  near 
the  mountains,  that  the  Pikiin'i  were  camped  when  Mik-a'pi 
went  to  war.  It  was  far  back,  in  the  days  of  stone  knives, 
long  before  the  white  people  had  come.  This  was  the  way 
it  happened. 

Early  in  the  morning  a  band  of  buffalo  were  seen  in  the 
foot-hills  of  the  mountains,  and  some  hunters  went  out  to  get 
meat.  Carefully  they  crawled  along  up  the  coulc^es  and 
drew  near  to  the  herd  ;  and,  when  they  had  come  close  to 
them,  they  began  to  shoot,  and  their  arrows  pierced  many 
fat  cows.  But  even  while  they  were  thus  shooting,  they 
were  surprised  by  a  war  party  of  Snakes,  and  they  began  to 
run  back  toward  the  camp.  There  was  one  hunter, 
named  Fox-eye,  who  was  very  brave.  He  called  to  the 
others  to  stop,  saying  :  "  They  are  many  and  we  are  few,  but 
the  Snakes  are  not  brave.  Let  us  stop  and  fight  them." 
But  the  other  hunters  would  not  listen.  "  We  have  no 
shields,"  they  said,  "  nor  our  war  medicine.  There  are 
many  of  the  enemy.     Why  should  we  foolishly  die?" 

They  hurried  on  to  camp,  but  Fox-eye  would  not  turn 
back.  He  drew  his  arrows  from  the  quiver,  and  prepared  to 
fight.     But,    even   as   he   placed   an   arrow,  a   Snake  had 

1  Armells  Creek  in  Northern  Montana  is  called  Et-tsis-ki-ots-op,  "  It  fell  on 
them."  A  long  lime  ago  a  number  of  Blackfcet  women  were  digging  in  a 
bank  near  this  creek  for  the  red  clay  which  they  use  for  paint,  when  the 
bank  gave  way  and  fell  on  tliem,  burying  and  killing  them. 

6i 


i 


62  STORIES    OF   ADVENTURE 

crawled  up  by  his  side,  unseen.  In  the  still  air,  the  Piegan 
heard  the  sharp  twang  of  a  bow  string,  but,  before  he  could 
turn  his  head,  the  long,  fine-pointed  arrow  pierced  him 
through  and  through.  The  bow  and  arrows  dropped  from 
his  hantls,  he  swayed,  and  then  fell  forward  on  the  grass, 
dead.  But  now  the  warriors  came  pouring  from  the  camp 
to  aid  him.  Too  late  !  The  Snakes  quickly  scalped  their 
fallen  enemy,  scattered  up  the  mountain,  and  were  lost  to 
sight. 

Now  Fox-eye  had  two  wives,  and  their  father  and  mother 
and  all  their  near  relations  were  dead.  All  Fox-eye's  rela- 
tives, too,  had  long  since  gone  to  the  Sand  Hills.'  So  these 
poor  widows  had  no  one  to  avenge  them,  and  they  mourned 
deeply  for  the  husband  so  suddenly  taken  from  them. 
Through  the  long  days  they  sat  on  a  near  hill  and  mourned, 
and  their  mourning  was  very  sad. 

There  was  a  young  warrior  named  Mik-a'pi.  Every  morn- 
ing he  was  awakened  by  the  crying  of  these  poor  widows, 
and  through  the  day  his  heart  was  touched  by  their  wailing. 
Even  when  he  went  to  rest,  their  mournful  cries  reached 
him  through  the  darkness,  and  he  could  not  sleep.  So  he 
sent  his  mother  to  them.  "  Tell  them,"  he  said,  "  that  I 
wish  to  speak  to  them."  \\'hen  they  had  entered,  they  sat 
close  by  the  door-way,  and  covered  their  heads. 

"A>/"said  iMik-a'pi.  "For  days  and  nights  I  have 
heard  your  mourning,  and  I  too  have  silendy  mourned.  My 
heart  has  been  very  sad.  Your  husband  was  my  near  friend, 
and  now  he  is  dead  and  no  relations  are  left  to  avenge  him. 
So  now,  I  say,  I  will  take  the  load  from  your  hearts.  I  will 
avenge  him.  I  will  go  to  war  and  take  many  scalps,  and 
when  I  return,  they  shall  be  yours.  You  shall  paint  your 
faces  black,  and  we  will  all  rejoice  that  Fox-eye  is  avenged." 
When  the  people  heard  that  Mik-a'pi  was  going  to  war, 

•Sand  Hills:  the  shadow  land;  place  of  ghosts;  the  Blackfoot  future 
world. 


f 


mik-a'pi  —  RED  or.n  man  63 

many  warriors  wished  to  join  him,  but  he  refused  them  ;  and 
when  he  had  taken  a  medicine  sweat,  and  got  a  medicine- 
pipe  man  to  make  medicine  for  him  during  his  absence,  he 
started  from  the  camp  one  evening,  just  after  sunset.  It  is 
I  only  the  foohsh  warrior  who  travels  in  the  day ;  for  other 

war  i)arties  may  be  out,  or  some  camp-watcher  sitting  on  a 
hill  may  see  him  from  far  off,  and  lay  plans  to  destroy  him. 
Mik-a'pi  was  not  one  of  these.  He  was  brave  but  cautious, 
and  he  had  strong  medicine.  Some  say  that  he  was  related 
to  the  ghosts,  and  that  they  helped  him.  Having  now 
started  to  war  against  the  Snakes,  he  travelled  in  hidden 
places,  and  at  sunrise  would  climb  a  hill  and  look  carefully 
in  all  directions,  anil  during  the  long  day  would  lie  there, 
and  watch,  ami  take  short  sleeps. 

Now,  when  Mik-a'i)i  had  come  to  the  Great  Falls  (of  the 
Missouri),  a  heavy  rain  set  in;  and,  seeing  a  hole  in  the 
rocks,  he  crawled  in  and  lay  down  in  the  further  end  to 
sleep.  'I'he  rain  did  not  cease,  and  when  night  came  he 
could  not  travel  because  of  the  darkness  and  storm ;  so 
he  lay  down  to  sleep  again.  But  soon  he  heard  something 
cor.  ing  into  the  cave  toward  him,  and  then  he  felt  a  hand 
laid  on  his  breast,  and  he  put  out  his  hand  and  touched 
a  person.  Then  Mik-a'pi  put  the  palm  of  his  hand  on 
the  person's  breast  and  jerked  it  to  and  fro,  and  then  he 
touched  the  person  with  the  point  of  his  finger,  which,  in 
the  sign  language,  means,  "Who  are  you?" 

The  strange  person  then  took  Mik-a'pi's  hand,  and  made 
him  feel  of  his  own  right  hand.  The  thumb  and  all  the  fin- 
gers were  closed  except  the  forefinger,  which  was  extended  ; 
and  when  Mik-a'pi  touchetl  it  the  person  moved  his  hand 
forward  with  a  zigzag  motion,  which  means  "  Snake."  Then 
Mik-a'pi  was  glad.  Here  had  come  to  him  one  of  the  tribe 
he  was  seeking.  But  he  thought  it  best  to  wait  for  daylight 
before  attacking  him.  So,  when  the  Snake  in  signs  asked 
him  who  he  was,  he  replied,  by  making  the  sign  for  paddling 


64 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


a  canoe,  that  he  was  a  Pend  d'Oreille,  or  River  person.  For 
he  knew  that  the  Snakes  and  the  Pend  d'Oreilles  were  at 
peace. 

Then  they  both  lay  down  to  sleep,  but  Mik-a'pi  did  not 
sleep.  Through  the  long  night  he  watched  for  the  first  dim 
light,  so  that  he  might  kill  his  enemy.  The  Snake  slept 
soundly  ;  and  just  at  daybreak  Mik-a'pi  quietly  strung  his 
bow,  fitted  an  arrow,  and.  taking  aim,  sent  the  thin  shaft 
through  his  enemy's  heart.  The  Snake  (piivered,  half  rose 
up,  and  with  a  groan  fell  back  dead.  Then  Mik-a'pi  took 
his  scalp  and  his  bow  and  arrows,  and  also  his  bundle  of  moc- 
casins ;  and  as  daylight  had  come,  he  went  out  of  the 
cave  and  looked  all  about.  No  one  was  in  sight.  Probably 
the  Snake,  like  himself,  had  gone  alone  to  war.  But,  ever 
cautious,  he  travelled  only  a  short  distance,  and  waited  for 
night  before  going  on.  The  rain  had  ceased  and  tlie  day 
was  warm.  He  took  a  piece  of  drieil  meat  and  back  fat 
from  his  pouch  and  ate  them,  and,  after  drinking  from  the 
river,  he  climbed  up  on  a  high  rock  wall  and  slept. 

Now  in  his  dream  he  fought  with  a  strange  i)eople,  and 
was  wounded.  He  felt  blood  trickling  from  his  wounds, 
and  when  he  awoke,  he  knew  that  he  had  been  warned  to 
turn  back.  The  signs  also  were  bad.  He  saw  an  eagle  ris- 
ing with  a  snake,  which  dropped  from  its  claws  and  escaped. 
The  setting  sun,  too,  was  painted,'  —  a  sure  warning  to  peo- 
ple that  danger  is  near.  But,  in  spite  of  all  these  things, 
Mik-a'pi  determined  to  go  on.  He  thought  of  the  poor 
widows  mourning  and  waiting  for  revenge.  He  thought  of 
the  glad  welcome  of  the  peoi)le,  if  he  should  return  with 
many  scalps  ;  and  he  thought  also  of  two  young  si;  *ers, 
whom  he  wanted  to  marry.  Surely,  if  he  could  return  and 
bring  the  proofs  of  brave  deeds,  their  parents  would  be  glad 
to  give  them  to  him. 

1  Sun  dogs. 


MIK-A'I'I  —  RED    OLD    MAN  65 


II 


It  was  nearly  night.  The  sun  liad  already  disappeared 
behind  the  sharp-pointed  gray  peaks.  In  the  fading  ligiit 
the  far-stretching  prairie  was  turning  dark.  In  a  valley, 
sparsely  timbered  with  quaking  asi)ens  and  cotton-woods, 
stood  a  large  camp.  For  a  long  distance  up  and  down  the 
river  rose  the  smoke  of  many  lodges.  Seated  on  a  little 
hill  overlooking  the  valley,  was  a  single  person.  With 
his  robe  drawn  tightly  around  him,  he  sat  there  motionless, 
looking  down  on  the  prairie  and  valley  bolow. 

Slowly  and  silently  something  was  crawling  through  the 
grass  toward  him.  But  he  heard  nothing.  Still  he  gazed 
eastward,  seeking  to  discover  any  enemy  who  might  be 
approaching.  Still  the  dark  object  crawled  slowly  onward. 
Now  it  was  so  close  to  him  that  it  could  almost  touch  him. 
The  person  thought  he  heard  a  sound,  and  started  to  turn 
round.  Too  late  !  Too  late  !  A  strong  arm  grasped  him 
about  the  neck  and  covered  his  mouth.  A  long  jagged 
knife  was  thrust  into  his  breast  again  and  again,  and  he  died 
without  a  cry.  Strange  that  in  all  that  great  camp  no  one 
should  have  seen  him  killed  ! 

Still  extended  on  the  ground,  the  dark  figure  removed  the 
scalp.  Slowly  he  crawled  back  down  the  hill,  and  was  lost 
in  the  gathering  darkness.  It  was  Mik-a'pi,  and  he  had 
another  Snake  scalp  tied  to  his  belt.  His  heart  was  glad, 
yet  he  was  not  satisfied.  Some  nights  had  passed  since  the 
bad  signs  had  warned  him,  yet  he  had  succeeded.  "  One 
more,"  he  said.  "  One  more  scalp  I  must  have,  and  then  I 
will  go  back."  So  he  went  far  up  on  the  mountain,  and  hid 
in  some  thick  pines  and  slept.  When  daylight  came,  he 
could  see  smoke  rise  as  the  women  started  their  fires.  He 
also  saw  many  people  rush  up  on  the  hill,  where  the  dead 
watcher  lay.     He  was  too  far  off  to  hear  their  angry  shouts 


66  STORIES    OF    ADVENTLKR 

and  mournful  cries,  but  he  sung  to  himself  a  song  of  war  and 
was  happy. 

Once  more  the  sun  went  to  his  lodge  behind  the  moun- 
tains, and  as  darkness  came  Mik-a'pi  slowly  descended  the 
mountain  and  approached  the  camp.  This  was  the  time  of 
danger.  Hehind  each  bush,  or  hidden  in  a  bunch  of  the  tall 
rye  grass,  some  person  might  be  watching  to  warn  the  camp 
of  an  approaching  enemy.  Slowly  and  like  a  snake,  he 
crawled  around  the  outskirts  of  tiie  camj),  listening  and  look- 
ing. He  heard  a  cough  and  saw  a  movement  of  a  bush. 
There  was  a  Snake.  Could  he  kill  him  and  yet  escape? 
He  was  close  to  him  now.  So  he  sat  and  waited,  consider- 
ing how  to  act.  For  a  long  time  he  sat  there  waiting.  The 
moon  rose  and  travelled  high  in  the  sky.  The  Seven  Per- 
sons'  slowly  swung  around,  and  pointed  downward.  It  was 
the  middle  of  the  night.  Then  the  person  in  the  bush  stood 
up  and  stretched  out  his  arms  and  yawned,  for  he  was  tired 
of  watching,  and  thought  that  no  danger  was  near ;  but  as 
he  stood  thus,  an  arrow  pierceo  his  breast.  He  gave  a  loud 
yell  and  tried  to  run,  but  another  arrow  struck  him  and 
he  fell. 

At  the  sound  the  warriors  rushed  forth  from  the  lodges 
and  the  outskirts  of  the  camp  ;  but  as  they  came,  Mik-a'pi 
tore  the  scalp  from  his  f;illen  enemy,  and  started  to  run 
toward  the  river.  Close  behind  him  followed  the  Snakes. 
.Arrows  whi/zed  about  him.  (Jne  pierced  his  arm.  He 
plucked  it  out.  Another  struck  his  leg,  and  he  fell.  Then  a 
great  shfiut  arose  from  the  Snakes.  Their  enemy  was  down. 
.Now  they  would  be  revenged  for  two  lately  taken  lives.  Hut 
where  Mik-a'i)i  fell  was  the  verge  of  a  high  rock  wall  ;  below 
rushed  the  deep  river,  and  even  as  they  shouted,  he  rolled 
from  the  wall,  anil  disajjpeared  in  the  dark  water  far  below. 
In  vain  they  searched  the  shores  and  bars.  They  did  not 
find  him. 

>  The  consiellution  oi  the  Great  i^ar. 


( 


MIK-A'fI — RED    OLD    MAM  ^J 

Mik-a'pi  had  sunk  deep  in  the  water.  The  current  was 
swift,  and  when  at  last  he  rose  to  the  surface,  he  was  far 
below  his  pursuers.     The  arrow  in  his  leg  pained  him,  and  i 

with  difficulty  he  crawled  out  on  a  sand-bar.  Luckily  the 
arrow  was  lance-siiaped  instead  of  barbed,  so  he  managed  to  ' 

draw  it  out.  Near  by  on  the  bar  was  a  dry  pine  log,  lodged 
there  by  the  high  spring  water.  This  he  managed  to  roll 
into  the  stream  ;  and.  partly  resting  on  it,  he  again  drifted 
down  with  the  current.  All  night  he  floated  down  the  river, 
and  when  morning  came  he  was  far  from  the  camj)  of  the 
Snakes.  Ik'numbcd  with  cold  and  stiff  from  the  arrow 
woimds,  he  was  glad  to  crawl  out  on  the  bank,  and  lie  down  _ 

in  the  warm  sunshine.     Soon  he  slept.  i 

i 

The  sun  was  already  in  the  middle  when  he  awoke.  His 
wounds  were  swollen  and  painful ;  yet  he  hobbled  on  for  a 
time,  until  the  pain  became  so  great  he  could  go  no  further, 
and  he  sat  down,  tired  and  discouraged. 

"True  the  signs,"  he  said.  ''How  crazy  I  was  to  go 
against  them  !  Useless  now  my  bravery,  for  here  I  must 
stay  and  die.  The  widows  will  still  mourn  ;  ami  in  their 
old  age  who  will  take  care  of  my  father  and  my  mother? 
Pity  me  now,  oh  Sun  !  Help  me,  oh  great  Above  Medicine 
Person  !  Look  down  on  your  wounded  and  suflering  child. 
Help  me  to  sur\ive  !  " 

What  was  that  crackling  in  the  brush  near  by?  Was  it 
the  Snakes  on  his  trail?  Mik-a'i)i  strung  his  bow  and  drew 
out  his  arrows.  No ;  it  was  not  a  Snake.  It  was  a  bear. 
There  he  stood,  a  big  grizzly  bear,  looking  down  at  the 
wounded  man.  "  What  does  my  brother  here  ?  "  he  said. 
"  Why  does  he  pray  to  survive?  " 

"  Look  at  my  leg,"  said  Mik-a'pi,  "  swollen  and  sore. 
Look  at  my  wounded  arm.     I  can  hardly  draw  the  bow. 


68 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURF. 


I'ur  the  home  of  my  people,  and  my  strength  is  gone. 
Surely  here  I  must  die,  for  I  cannot  travel  and  I  have  no  food." 

"  Now  courage,  my  brother,"  said  the  bear.  "  Now  not 
faint  heart,  my  brother,  for  I  will  help  you,  and  you  shall 
survive." 

When  he  had  said  this,  he  lifted  Mik-a'pi  and  carried  him 
to  a  place  of  thick  mud  ;  and  here  he  took  great  handfuls  ' 
of  the  mud  and  plastered  the  wounds,  and  he  sung  a  medi- 
cine song  while  putting  on  the  mud.  Then  he  carried  Mik- 
a'pi  to  a  place  where  were  many  sarvis  berries,  and  broke 
off  great  branches  of  the  fruit,  and  gave  them  to  him, 
saying,  "  Kat,  my  brother,  eat  !  "  and  he  broke  off  more 
branches,  full  of  large  ripe  berries,  for  him  ;  but  already 
Mik-a'pi  was  satisfied  and  could  eat  no  more.  Then  said 
the  bear,  "  Lie  down,  now,  on  my  back,  and  hold  tight  by 
my  hair,  and  we  will  travel  on."  .And  when  Mik-a'pi  had 
got  on  and  was  ready,  he  started  off  on  a  long  swinging  trot. 

All  through  the  night  he  travelled  on  without  stopping. 
When  morning  came,  they  rested  awhile,  and  ate  more 
berries  ;  and  again  the  bear  plastered  his  wounds  with  mud. 
In  this  way  they  travelled  on,  until,  on  the  fourth  day,  they 
came  close  to  the  lodges  of  the  Pikiin'i  ;  and  the  people  saw 
them  coming  and  wondered. 

"Get  off,  my  brother,  get  off,"  said  the  bear.  "  There  are 
your  people.  I  must  leave  you."  And  without  another 
word,  he  turned  and  went  off  up  the  mountain. 

.All  the  people  came  out  to  meet  the  warrior,  and  they 
carried  him  to  the  lodge  of  his  father.  He  untied  the  three 
scalps  from  his  belt  and  gave  them  to  the  widows,  saying  : 
"You  are  revenged.  I  wipe  away  your  tears."  And  every 
one  rejoiced.  All  his  female  relations  went  through  the 
camp,  shouting  his  name  and  singing,  and  every  one  pre- 
paretl  for  the  scalp  dance. 

'  The  bear's  paws  are  calli-d  0-kits-ik$,  the  term  also  for  a  person's 
hands.    The  animal  itself  is  regarded  as  almost  hunan. 


i 


M 


MIK-a'pI  —  RED    OLD    MAN  69 

First  came  the  widows.  Tlieir  faces  were  painted  black, 
and  they  carried  the  scalps  tied  on  poles.  Then  came  the 
medicine  men,  with  their  medicine  pipes  unwrapped  ;  then 
the  bands  of  the  l-kun-iilC-kah-tsi,  all  dressed  in  war  cos- 
tume ;  then  came  the  old  men  ;  and  last  the  women  and 
children.  They  all  sang  the  war  song  and  danced.  They 
went  all  through  the  village  in  single  file,  stopping  here  and 
there  to  dance,  and  Mik-a'pi  sat  outside  the  lodge,  and  saw 
all  the  people  dance  by  him.  He  forgot  his  pain  and  was 
proud,  and  although  he  could  not  dance,  he  sang  with  them. 

Soon  they  made  the  Medicine  Lodge,  and,  first  of  all  the 
warriors,  Mik-a'pi  was  chosen  to  cut  the  raw-hide  which 
binds  the  poles,  and  as  he  cut  the  strands,  he  counted  the 
coups  he  had  made.  He  tol<l  of  the  enemies  he  had  killed, 
and  all  the  people  shouted  his  name  and  praised  him.  The 
father  of  those  two  young  sisters  gave  them  to  him.  He  was 
glad  to  have  such  a  son-in-law.  Long  lived  Mik-a'pi.  Of  all 
the  great  chiefs  who  have  lived  anil  died,  he  was  the  greatest. 
He  did  many  other  great  and  daring  things.  It  must  be 
true,  as  the  old  men  have  said,  that  he  was  helped  by  the 
ghosts,  for  no  one  can  do  such  things  without  help  from 
those  fearful  and  unknown  persons. 


t 


1 


HEAVY  COLLAR  AND  THE  GHOST 
WOMAN 

The  Blood  camp  was  on  Old  Man's  River,  where  Fort 
McLeod  now  stands.  A  party  of  seven  men  started  to  war 
toward  the  Cypress  Hills.  Heavy  Collar  was  the  leader. 
They  went  around  the  Cypress  Mountains,  but  found  no 
enemies  and  started  back  toward  their  camp.  On  their 
homewanl  way.  Heavy  Collar  used  to  take  the  lead.  He 
would  go  out  far  ahead  on  the  high  hills,  and  look  over  the 
country,  acting  as  scout  for  the  party.  .At  length  they  came 
to  the  south  branch  of  the  Saskatchewan  River,  above  Seven 
Persons'  Creek.  In  those  days  there  were  many  war  parties 
about,  and  this  party  travelled  concealed  as  much  as  possible 
in  the  coulties  and  low  places. 

As  they  were  following  up  the  river,  they  saw  at  a  distance 
three  oKl  bulls  lying  tlown  close  to  a  cut  bank.  Heavy 
Collar  left  his  party,  and  went  out  to  kill  one  of  these  bulls, 
and  when  he  had  come  close  to  them,  he  shot  one  and  killed 
it  right  there.  He  cut  it  up,  and,  as  he  was  hungry,  he  went 
down  into  a  ravine  below  him,  to  roast  a  piece  of  meat ;  for 
he  had  left  his  party  a  long  way  behin<l,  and  night  was  now 
coming  on.  .As  he  was  roasting  the  meat,  he  thought,  —  for 
he  was  very  tired,  —  "  It  is  a  pity  I  did  not  bring  one  of  my 
young  men  with  me.  He  could  go  up  on  that  hill  and  get 
some  hair  from  that  bull's  head,  and  I  could  wipe  out  my 
gun."  While  he  sat  there  thinking  this,  and  talking  to  him- 
self, a  bunch  of  this  hair  came  over  him  through  the  air,  and 
fell  on  the  ground  right  in  front  of  him.  When  this  hap- 
70 


, 


I. 


HEAVY    COLI.AK    AND    THK    GHOST    WUMAN  "J I 

pened,  it  frightened  him  a  httle  ;  for  he  thought  that  perhaps 
some  of  his  enemies  were  close  by,  and  hail  thrown  the  bunch 
of  hair  at  him.  After  a  httle  while,  he  took  the  hair,  and 
cleaned  his  gun  and  loaded  it,  and  then  sat  and  watched  for 
a  time.  He  was  uneasy,  and  at  length  decided  that  he  would 
go  on  further  up  the  river,  to  see  what  he  could  discover. 
He  went  on,  up  the  stream,  until  he  came  to  the  mouth  of  the 
St.  Mary's  River.  It  was  now  very  late  in  the  night,  and  he 
was  very  tired,  so  he  crept  into  a  large  bunch  of  rye-grass  to 
hide  and  sleep  for  the  night. 

The  sunnner  before  this,  the  Blackfeet  {Sik-si-kau)  had 
been  camped  on  this  bottom,  and  a  woman  hail  been  killed 
in  this  same  patch  of  rye-grass  where  Heavy  Collar  had  lain 
down  to  rest.  He  did  not  know  this,  but  still  he  seemed  to 
be  troubled  that  n^'ht.  He  could  not  sleep.  He  could 
always  hear  something,  but  what  it  was  he  could  not  make 
out.  He  trieil  t(/  go  to  sleep,  but  as  soon  as  he  dozed  off 
he  kept  thinking  he  hearil  something  in  the  distance.  He 
spent  the  night  there,  and  in  the  morning  when  it  became 
light,  there  he  saw  right  beside  him  the  skeleton  of  the 
woman  who  had  been  killed  the  summer  before. 

That  morning  he  went  on,  following  up  the  stream  to 
Ik'lly  River.  .All  day  long  as  he  was  travelling,  he  kept 
thinking  about  his  having  slept  by  this  woman's  bones.  It 
troubled  him.  He  could  not  forget  it.  .\t  the  same  time  he 
was  very  tireil,  because  he  had  walked  so  far  and  had  slept 
so  little.  As  night  came  on,  he  crosseil  over  to  an  island, 
and  determined  to  camp  for  the  night.  /\t  the  ujjper  eml 
of  the  island  was  a  large  tree  tiiat  had  drifted  down  and 
lodged,  and  in  a  fork  of  this  tree  he  built  his  fire,  and  got  in 
a  crotch  of  one  of  the  forks,  and  sat  with  his  back  to  the  fire, 
warming  himself,  but  all  the  time  he  was  thinking  about  the 
wo. nan  he  had  slept  beside  the  night  before.  As  he  sat 
there,  all  at  once  he  heard  over  beyond  the  tree,  on  the 
other  side  of  the  fire,  a  sound  as  if  something  were  being 


72  STOKIKS   OF    ADVENTURE 

dragged  toward  liim  along  the  ground.  It  sounded  as  if  a 
piece  of  a  lodge  were  being  dragged  over  the  grass.  It  came 
closer  and  closer. 

Heavy  Collar  was  scared.  He  was  afraid  to  turn  his  head 
and  look  hack  to  see  what  it  was  that  was  coming.  He 
heard  the  noise  come  up  to  the  tree  in  which  his  fire  was 
built,  and  then  it  stojjped,  and  all  at  once  he  heard  some  one 
whistling  a  tune.  !Ie  turned  around  and  looked  toward  the 
sound,  and  there,  sitting  on  the  other  fork  of  the  tree,  right 
opposite  to  him,  was  the  pile  of  bones  by  which  he  had 
slept,  (jnly  now  all  together  in  the  shape  of  a  skeleton.  This 
ghost  had  on  it  a  lodge  covering.  The  string,  which  is  tied 
to  the  pole,  was  fastened  about  the  ghost's  neck  ;  the  wings 
of  the  lodge  stood  out  on  either  side  of  its  head,  and  behind 
it  the  lodge  could  be  seen,  stretched  out  and  fading  away 
into  the  darkness.  The  gliost  sat  on  the  old  dead  limb  and 
whistled  its  tune,  and  as  it  whistled,  it  swung  its  legs  in  time 
to  the  tune. 

When  Heavy  Collar  saw  this,  his  heart  almost  nielied  away. 
At  length  he  mustered  uj)  courage,  and  said  :  "  Oh  ghost,  go 
away,  and  do  not  trouble  me.  I  am  very  tired  ;  I  want  to 
rest."  The  ghost  paid  no  attention  to  him,  but  kept  on 
whistling,  swinging  its  legs  in  time  to  the  tune.  Four  times 
he  prayed  to  her,  saying  :  "  ( )h  ghost,  take  pity  on  me  !  Cio 
away  and  leave  me  alone.  I  am  tired  ;  I  want  to  rest." 
'I'he  more  he  prayed,  the  more  the  ghost  whistled  and 
seemed  pleased,  swinging  her  legs,  anil  turning  her  head 
from  side  to  side,  sometimes  looking  down  at  him,  and 
sometimes  up  at  the  stars,  and  all  the  time  whistling. 

When  he  saw  that  she  took  no  notice  of  what  he  said. 
Heavy  Collar  got  angry  at  heart,  and  said,  "  Well,  ghost,  you 
do  not  listen  to  my  prayers,  and  I  shall  have  to  shoot  you 
to  drive  you  away."  With  that  he  seized  his  gun,  and  throw- 
ing it  to  his  shoulder,  shot  right  at  the  ghost.  When  he 
shot  at  her,  she  fell  c)ver  backwanl  into  the  darkness,  scream- 


HKAVV  COLLAR  AND  THK  GHOST  WOMAN    73 

ing  out :  "  Oh  Heavy  Collar,  you  have  shot  me,  you  have 
killed  me  !  You  dog,  Heavy  Collar!  there  is  no  place  on 
this  earth  where  you  can  go  that  I  will  not  find  you ;  no 
place  where  you  can  hiile  that  1  will  not  come." 

As  she  fell  back  and  said  this,  Heavy  Collar  sjjrang  to  his 
feet,  and  ran  away  as  fast  as  he  could.  She  called  after  him  : 
'•  I  have  been  killed  once,  and  now  you  are  trying  to  kill  me 
again.  Oh  Heavy  Collar  !  "  As  he  ran  away,  he  could 
still  hear  her  angry  words  following  him,  until  at  last  they 
died  away  in  the  distance.  He  ran  all  night  long,  and 
whenever  he  stopped  to  breathe  and  listen,  he  seemed  to 
hear  in  the  distance  the  echoes  of  her  voice.  All  he  could 
hear  was,  "  (^h  Heavy  Collar !  "  and  then  he  would  rush  away 
again.  He  ran  until  he  was  all  tired  out,  and  by  this  time 
it  was  daylight.  He  was  now  cpiite  a  long  way  below  Fort 
McLeod.  He  was  very  sleepy,  but  dared  not  lie  down,  for 
he  remembered  tliat  the  ghost  had  said  that  she  would  follow 
him.  He  kept  walking  on  for  some  time,  and  then  sat  down 
to  rest,  and  at  once  fell  asleep. 

Before  he  had  left  his  party.  Heavy  Collar  had  said  to  his 
young  men  :  "  Now  remember,  if  any  one  of  us  should  get 
separated  from  tiie  party,  let  him  always  travel  to  the  Belly 
River  IJultes.  'I'iiere  will  be  our  meeting-place."  When 
their  leader  did  not  return  to  them,  the  party  started  across 
the  country  and  went  toward  the  Belly  River  Buttes.  Heavy 
Collar  had  followed  the  river  up,  and  had  gone  a  long  dis- 
tance out  of  his  way  ;  and  when  he  awoke  from  his  sleep^ 
he  too  started  straight  for  the  Belly  River  Buttes,  as  he  had 
said  he  would. 

When  his  jwrty  reached  the  Buttes,  one  of  them  went  up 
on  top  of  the  hill  to  watch.  .After  a  time,  as  he  looked  down 
the  river,  he  saw  two  i)ersons  coming,  and  as  they  came 
nearer,  he  saw  that  one  of  them  was  Heavy  Collar,  and  by 
his  side  was  a  woman.  The  watcher  called  up  the  rest  of 
the  party,  and  said  to  them  :  "  Here  comes  our  chief.     He 


74  STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 

has  had  luck.  He  is  bringing  a  woman  with  him.  If  he 
brings  her  into  camp,  we  will  take  her  away  from  him,"  And 
they  all  laughed.  'I'hey  supposed  that  lie  had  captured  her. 
They  went  down  to  the  camp,  and  sat  about  the  fire,  looking 
at  the  two  people  coming,  and  laughing  among  themselves 
at  the  idea  of  their  chief  bringing  in  a  woman.  When  the 
two  persons  had  come  close,  they  could  see  that  Heavy 
Collar  was  walking  fast,  and  the  woman  would  walk  by  l\is 
side  a  little  way,  trying  to  keep  up,  and  then  would  fall 
behind,  and  then  trot  along  to  catch  up  to  him  again.  Just 
before  the  pair  reached  camp  tiicre  was  a  deep  ravine  that 
they  had  to  cross.  They  went  down  into  this  side  by  side, 
and  then  Heavy  Collar  came  up  out  of  it  alone,  and  came 
on  into  the  camp. 

When  he  got  there,  all  the  young  men  began  to  laugh  at 
him  and  to  call  out,  ''  Heavy  Collar,  where  is  your  woman  ?" 
He  looked  at  them  for  a  moment,  and  then  said  :  "  Why,  1 
have  no  woman.  I  do  not  understand  what  you  are  talking 
about."  One  of  them  said  :  "  Oh,  he  has  hidden  her  in  that 
ravine.  He  was  afraid  to  bring  her  into  camp."  Another 
said,  "  Where  did  you  capture  her,  and  what  tribe  does  she 
l)eIong  to?"  Heavy  (dollar  looked  from  one  to  another, 
and  said  :  "  I  think  you  are  all  cra/y.  I  have  taken  no 
woman.  What  do  you  mean?"  The  young  man  said: 
"  Why,  that  woman  that  you  had  with  you  just  now  :  where 
did  you  get  her,  and  where  ilid  you  leave  her?  Is  she 
down  in  the  coulee?  We  all  saw  her,  and  it  is  no  use  to 
deny  that  she  was  with  you.  Come  now,  where  is  she?" 
When  they  said  this.  Heavy  Collar's  heart  grew  very  heavy,  T 

for  he  knew  that  it  must  h;>ve  been  the  ghost  woman  ;  and 
he  told  them  the  story.  Some  of  the  young  men  coulil  not 
believe  this,  and  they  ran  down  to  the  ravine,  where  they 
had  last  seen  the  woman.  There  they  saw  in  the  soft  dirt 
the  tracks  made  by  Heavy  Collar,  when  he  went  down  into  j 

the  ravine,  but  there  were  no  other  tracks  near  his,  where 


I 


ft 


HEAVY   COLLAR    AND    THE    GHOST    WOMAN  75 


they  had  seen  the  woman  walking.      When  they  found  that 
it  was  a  ghost  that  had  come  along  with  Heavy  Collar,  they 
resolved  to  go  l)a<:k  to  their  main  camp.      The  party  had 
j  been  out  so  long  that  their  moccasins  were  all  worn  out,  and 

r  some  of  them  were  footsore,  so  that  they  coulil  not  travel 

fast,  hut  at  last  they  came  to  the  cut  banks,  and  there  found 
their  camp  —  seven  lodges. 

That   night,   after   they   had   reached   camp,   they  were 

inviting  each  other  to  feasts.     It  was  getting  pretty  late  in 

the  night,  and  the  moon  was  shining  brighUy,  when  one  of 

the  Hloods  called   out  for  Heavy  Collar  to  come  and  eat 

with  him.      Heavy  Collar  shouted,   "Yes,  I  will  be  there 

pretty  soon."      He  got  up  and  went  out  of  the  lodge,  and 

went  a  little  way  from   it,  and  sat  ilown.     While  he  was 

sitting  there,  a  big  bear  walked  out  of  the  brush  close  to 

I  him.      Heavy  Collar  felt  around  him  for  a  stone  to  throw  at 

the  bear,  so  as  to  scare  it  away,  for  he  thought  it  had  not 

seen  him.      As  he  was  feeling  about,  his  hand  came  upon  a 

piece  of  bone,  and  he  threw  this  over  at  the  bear,  and  hit  it. 

Then  the  bear  spoke,  and  said  :   "  Well,  well,  well.  Heavy 

Collar ;  you  have  killed   me  once,  and  now  here  you  are 

hitting  me.     Where  is  there  a  place  in  this  world  where  you 

can  hide  from  mo  ?      I  will  find  you,  I   tlon't  care  where 

8  you  may  go."      When  Heavy  Collar  heard  this,  he  knew  it 

I  was  the  ghost  woman,  and  he  jumped  up  anil  ran  toward  his 

lodge,  calling  out,  "  Run,  run  !  a  ghost  bear  is  upon  us  !  " 

i  All  the  people  in  the  camp  ran  to  his  lodge,  so  that  it 

was  crowtled  full  of  peoi)le.     There  was  a  big  fire  in  the 

T  lodge,  and  the  wind  was  blowing  hard  from  the  west.     Men, 

women,  and  children  were  huddled  together  in  the  lodge, 

and  were  very  much  afraid  of  the  ghost.      They  could  hear 

her  walking  toward  the  lodge,  grumbling,  and  saying  :  "  I  will 

kill  all  these  dogs.     Not  one  of  them  shall  get  away."    The 

2  sounds  kept  coming  closer  and  closer,  until  they  were  right 

'  at  the  lodge  door,     'i'hen  she  said,  "  I  will  smoke  you  to 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MS80 

(716)  872-4503 


I 


;\ 


I 


7^ 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


death."  And  as  she  said  this,  she  moved  the  poles,  so  that 
the  wings  of  the  lodge  turned  toward  the  west,  and  the  wind 
could  blow  in  freely  through  the  smoke  hole.  All  this  time 
she  was  threatening  terrible  things  against  them.  The  lodge 
began  to  get  full  of  smoke,  and  the  children  were  crying, 
and  all  were  in  great  distress  —  almost  suffocating.  So  they 
said,  "  Let  us  lift  one  man  up  here  inside,  and  let  him  try  to 
fix  the  ears,  so  that  the  lodge  will  get  clear  of  smoke. "  They 
raised  a  man  up,  and  he  was  standing  on  the  shoulders  of 
the  others,  and,  blinded  and  half  strangled  by  the  smoke, 
was  trying  to  turn  the  wings.  While  he  was  doing  this,  the 
ghost  suddenly  hit  the  lodge  a  blow,  and  said,  "  Un  !  "  and 
this  scared  the  people  who  were  holding  the  man,  and  they 
jumped  and  let  him  go,  and  he  fell  down.  Then  the  people 
were  in  despair,  and  said,  "  It  is  no  use  ;  she  is  resolved  to 
smoke  us  to  death."  All  the  time  the  smoke  was  getting 
thicker  in  the  lodge. 

Heavy  Collar  said :  "  Is  it  possible  that  she  can  destroy 
us?  Is  there  no  one  here  who  has  some  strong  dream 
power  that  can  overcome  this  ghost?" 

His  mother  said  :  "  I  will  try  to  do  something.  I  am 
older  than  any  of  you,  and  I  will  see  what  I  can  do."  So 
she  got  down  her  medicine  bundle  and  painted  herself,  and 
got  out  a  pipe  and  filled  it  and  lighted  it,  and  stuck  the 
stem  out  through  the  lodge  door,  and  sat  there  and  began 
to  pray  to  the  ghost  woman.  She  said  :  *'  Oh  ghost,  take 
pity  on  us,  and  go  away.  We  have  never  wronged  you,  but 
you  are  troubling  us  and  frightening  our  children.  Accept 
what  I  offer  you,  and  leave  us  alone." 

A  voice  came  from  behind  the  lodge  and  said  :  "  No,  no, 
no ;  you  dogs,  I  will  not  listen  to  you.  Every  one  of  you 
must  die." 

The  old  woman  repeated  her  prayer :  "  Ghost,  take  pity  on 
us.     Accept  this  smoke  and  go  away." 

Then  the  ghost  said  :  "  How  can  you  expect  me  to  smoke, 


•  f  1 


HEAVY   COLLAR   AND   THE    GHOST    WOMAN 


n 


when  I  am  way  back  here  ?  Bring  that  pipe  out  here.  I 
have  no  long  bill  to  reach  round  the  lodge."  So  the  old 
woman  went  out  of  the  lodge  door,  and  reached  out  the 
stem  of  the  pipe  as  far  as  she  could  reach  around  toward 
the  back  of  the  lodge.  The  ghost  said  :  "  No,  I  do  not  wish 
to  go  around  there  to  where  you  have  that  pipe.  If  you 
want  me  to  smoke  it,  you  must  bring  it  here."  The  old 
woman  went  around  the  lodge  toward  her,  and  the  ghost 
woman  began  to  back  away,  and  said,  "  No,  I  do  not  smoke 
that  kind  of  a  pipe."  And  when  the  ghost  started  away, 
the  old  woman  followed  her,  and  she  could  not  help  herself. 

She  called  out,  "  Oh  my  children,  the  ghost  is  carrying  me 
off !  "  Heavy  Collar  rushed  out,  and  called  to  the  others, 
"  Come,  and  help  me  take  my  mother  from  the  ghost."  He 
grasped  his  mother  about  the  waist  and  held  her,  and 
another  man  took  him  by  the  waist,  and  another  him,  until 
they  were  all  strung  out,  one  behind  the  other,  and  all 
following  the  old  woman,  who  was  following  the  ghost 
woman,  who  was  walking  away. 

All  at  once  the  old  woman  let  go  of  the  pipe,  and  fell 
over  dead.  The  ghost  disappeared,  and  they  were  troubled 
no  more  by  the  ghost  woman. 


tl  ■ 


iH 


THE   WOLF-MAN 


There  was  once  a  man  who  had  two  bad  wives.  They 
had  no  shame.  The  man  thought  if  he  moved  away  where 
there  were  no  other  people,  he  might  teach  these  women  to 
become  good,  so  he  moved  his  lodge  away  off  on  the  prairie. 
Near  where  they  camped  was  a  high  butte,  and  every  even- 
ing about  sundown,  the  man  would  go  up  on  top  of  it,  and 
look  all  over  the  country  to  see  where  the  buffalo  were  feed- 
ing, and  if  any  enemies  were  approaching.  There  was  a 
buffalo  skull  on  the  hill,  which  he  used  to  sit  on. 

"This  is  very  lonesome,"  said  one  woman  to  the  other, 
one  day.    **  We  have  no  one  to  talk  with  nor  to  visit." 

"Let  us  kill  our  husband,"  said  the  other.  "Then  we 
will  go  back  to  our  relations  and  have  a  good  time." 

Early  in  the  morning,  the  man  went  out  to  hunt,  and  as 
soon  as  he  was  out  of  sight,  his  wives  went  up  on  top  of  the 
butte.  There  they  dug  a  deep  pit,  and  covered  it  over  with 
light  sticks,  grass,  and  dirt,  and  placed  the  buffalo  skull  on 
top. 

In  the  afternoon  they  saw  their  husband  coming  home, 
loaded  down  with  meat  he  had  killed.  So  they  hurried  to 
cook  for  him.  After  eating,  he  went  up  on  the  butte  and  sat 
down  on  the  skull.  The  slender  sticks  gave  way,  and  he 
fell  into  the  pit.  His  wives  were  watching  him,  and  when 
they  saw  him  disappear,  they  took  down  the  lodge,  packed 
everything  on  the  dog  travois,  and  moved  off,  going  toward 
the  main  camp.  When  they  got  near  it,  so  that  the  people 
could  hear  them,  they  began  to  cry  and  mourn. 
78 


\ 


i 


THE    WOLF-MAN  79 

"  Why  is  this  ?  "  they  were  asked.  "  Why  are  you  mourn- 
ing?   Where  is  your  husband? " 

"He  is  dead,"  they  repUed.  "Five  days  ago  he  went 
out  to  hunt,  and  he  never  came  back."  And  they  cried  and 
mourned  again. 

When  the  man  fell  into  the  pit,  he  was  hurt.  After  a  while 
he  tried  to  get  out,  but  he  was  so  badly  bruised  he  could  not 
climb  up.  A  wolf,  travelling  along,  came  to  the  pit  and  saw 
him,  and  pitied  him.  Ah-h-w-o-o-o-o  !  Ah-h-w-0-0-0-0  !  he 
howled,  and  when  the  other  wolves  heard  him  they  all  came 
running  to  see  what  was  the  matter.  There  came  also  many 
coyotes,  badgers,  and  kit-foxes. 

"In  this  hole,"  said  the  wolf,  "is  my  find.  Here  is  a 
fallen-in  man.  Let  us  dig  him  out,  and  we  will  have  him 
for  our  brother." 

They  all  thought  the  wolf  spoke  well,  and  began  to  dig. 
In  a  little  while  they  had  a  hole  close  to  the  man.  Then  the 
wolf  who  found  him  said,  "  Hold  on ;  I  want  to  speak  a  few 
words  to  you."  All  the  animals  listening,  he  continued, 
"  We  will  all  have  this  man  for  our  brother,  but  I  found  him, 
so  I  think  he  ought  to  live  with  us  big  wolves."  All  the 
others  said  that  this  was  well ;  so  the  wolf  went  into  the  hole, 
and  tearing  down  the  rest  of  the  dirt,  dragged  the  almost 
dead  man  out.  They  gave  him  a  kidney  to  eat,  and  when 
he  was  able  to  walk  a  little,  the  big  wolves  took  him  to  their 
home.  Here  there  was  a  very  old  blind  wolf,  who  had 
powerful  medicine.  He  cured  the  man,  and  made  his  head 
and  hands  look  like  those  of  a  wolf.  The  rest  of  his  body 
was  not  changed. 

In  those  days  the  people  used  to  make  holes  in  the  pis'- 
kun  walls  and  set  snares,  and  when  wolves  and  other  animals 
came  to  steal  meat,  they  were  caught  by  the  neck.  One 
night  the  wolves  all  went  down  to  the  pis'kun  to  steal  meat, 
and  when  they  got  close  to  it,  the  man-wolf  said  :  "  Stand 
here  a  little  while.     I  will  go  down  and  fix  the  places,  so 


n 


80  STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 

you  will  not  be  caught."  He  went  on  and  sprung  all  the 
snares ;  then  he  went  back  and  called  the  wolves  and  others, 
—  the  coyotes,  badgers,  and  foxes,  —  and  they  all  went  in 
the  pis'kun  and  feasted,  and  took  meat  to  carry  home. 

In  the  morning  the  people  were  surprised  to  find  the  meat 
gone,  and  their  nooses  all  drawn  out.  They  wondered  how 
it  could  have  been  done.  For  many  nights  the  nooses  were 
drawn  and  the  meat  stolen ;  but  once,  when  the  wolves  went 
there  to  steal,  they  found  only  the  meat  of  a  scabby  bull,  and 
the  man-wolf  was  angry,  and  cried  out :  "  Bad-you-give-us- 
0-0-0  !    Bad-you-give-us-o-o-o-o  ! " 

The  people  heard  him,  and  said :  "  It  is  a  man-wolf  who 
has  done  all  this.  We  will  catch  him."  So  they  put  pem- 
mican  and  nice  back  fat  in  the  pis'kun,  and  many  hid  close 
by.  After  dark  the  wolves  came  again,  and  when  the  man- 
wolf  saw  the  good  food,  he  ran  to  it  and  began  eating.  Then 
the  people  all  rushed  in  and  caught  him  with  ropes  and 
took  him  to  a  lodge.  When  they  got  inside  to  the  light  of 
the  fire,  they  knew  at  once  who  it  was.  They  said,  "  This 
is  the  man  who  was  lost." 

"  No,"  said  the  man,  "  I  was  not  lost.  My  wives  tried  to 
kill  me.  They  dug  a  deep  hole,  and  I  fell  into  it,  and  I  was 
hurt  so  badly  that  I  could  not  get  out ;  but  the  wolves  took 
pity  on  me  and  helped  me,  or  I  would  have  died  there." 

When  the  people  heard  this,  they  were  angry,  and  they 
told  the  man  to  do  something. 

"  You  say  well,"  he  replied.  "  I  give  those  women  to  the 
I-kim-tM-kah-tsi ;  they  know  what  to  do." 

After  that  night  the  two  women  were  never  seen  again. 


'.!M 


THE   FAST   RUNNERS 

Once,  long  ago,  the  antelope  and  the  deer  met  on  the 
prairie.  At  this  time  both  of  them  had  galls  and  both  dew 
claws.  They  began  to  talk  together,  and  each  was  telling 
the  other  what  he  could  do.  Each  one  told  how  fast  he 
could  run,  and  before  long  they  were  dii:puting  as  to  which 
could  run  the  faster.  Neither  would  allow  that  the  other 
could  beat  him,  so  they  agreed  that  they  would  have  a  race 
to  decide  which  was  the  swifter,  and  they  bet  their  galls  on 
the  race.  When  they  ran,  the  antelope  proved  the  faster 
runner,  and  beat  the  deer  and  took  his  gall. 

Then  the  deer  said  :  "  Yes,  you  have  beaten  me  on  the 
prairie,  but  that  is  not  where  I  live.  I  only  go  out  there 
sometimes  to  feed,  or  when  I  am  travelling  around.  We 
ought  to  have  another  race  in  the  timber.  That  is  my 
home,  and  there  I  can  run  faster  than  you  can." 

The  antelope  felt  very  big  because  he  had  beaten  the 
deer  in  the  race,  and  he  thought  wherever  they  might  be, 
he  could  run  faster  than  the  deer.  ?io  he  agreed  to  race  in 
the  timber,  and  on  this  race  they  bet  their  dew  claws. 

They  ran  through  the  thick  timber,  among  the  brush  and 
over  fallen  logs,  and  this  time  the  antelope  ran  slowly, 
because  he  was  not  used  to  this  kind  of  travelling,  and  the 
deer  easily  beat  him,  and  took  his  dew  claws. 

Since  then  the  deer  has  had  no  gall,  and  the  antelope  no 
dew  claws. 

[NOTK.  A  version  of  the  first  portion  of  this  story  is  current  among  the 
Piuvnees,  .-ind  has  been  printed  in  Pawnee  Hero  Stories  and  Folk  Tales.] 

8i 


TWO   WAR  TRAILS 


I 


! 


Many  years  ago  there  lived  in  the  Blood  camp  a  boy 
named  Screech  Owl  (A'-tsi-tsi).  He  was  rather  a  lonely 
boy,  and  did  not  care  to  go  with  other  boys.  He  liked 
better  to  be  by  himself.  Often  he  would  go  off  alone,  and 
stay  out  all  night  away  from  the  camp.  He  used  to  pray  to 
all  kinds  of  birds  and  animals  that  he  saw,  and  ask  them 
to  take  pity  on  him  and  help  him,  saying  that  he  wanted  to 
be  a  warrior.  He  never  used  paint.  He  was  a  fine  looking 
young  man,  and  he  thought  it  was  foolish  to  use  paint  to 
make  oneself  good  looking. 

When  Screech  Owl  was  about  fourteen  years  old,  a  large 
party  of  Blackfeet  were  starting  to  war  against  the  Crees 
and  the  Assinaboines.  The  young  man  said  to  his  father : 
"  Father,  with  this  war  party  many  of  my  cousins  are  going. 
I  think  that  now  I  am  old  enough  to  go  to  war,  and  I  would 
like  to  join  them."  His  fether  said,  "  My  son,  I  am  willing  ; 
you  may  go."     So  he  joined  the  party. 

His  father  gave  his  son  his  own  war  horse,  a  black  horse 
with  a  white  spot  on  its  side  —  a  very  fast  horse.  He 
offered  him  arms,  but  the  boy  refused  them  all,  except  a 
little  trapping  axe.  He  said,  "  I  think  this  hatchet  will  be 
all  that  I  shall  need."  Just  as  they  were  about  to  start,  his 
father  gave  the  boy  his  own  war  headdress.  This  was  not  a 
war  bonnet,  but  a  plume  made  of  small  feathers,  the  feathers 
of  thunder  birds,  for  the  thunder  bird  was  his  father's 
medicine.  He  said  to  the  boy,  "  Now,  my  son,  when  you 
82 


¥  1 


TWO    WAR   TRAILS  83 

go  into  battle,  put  this  plume  in  your  head,  and  wear  it  as  I 
have  worn  it." 

The  party  started  and  travelled  north-east,  and  .at  length 
they  came  to  where  Fort  Pitt  now  stands,  on  the  Saskatche- 
wan River.  When  they  had  got  down  below  Fort  Pitt,  they 
saw  three  riders,  going  out  hunting.  These  men  had  not 
seen  the  war  party.  The  Blackfeet  started  around  the  men, 
so  as  10  head  them  off  when  they  should  run.  When  they 
saw  the  men,  the  Screech  Owl  got  off  his  horse,  and  took 
off  all  his  clothes,  and  put  on  his  father's  war  plume,  and 
began  to  ride  around,  singing  his  father's  war  song.  The 
older  warriors  were  getting  ready  for  the  attack,  and  when 
they  saw  this  young  boy  acting  in  this  way,  they  thought  he 
was  making  fun  of  the  older  men,  and  they  said :  "  Here, 
look  at  this  boy  !  Has  he  no  shame  ?  He  had  better  stay 
behind."  When  they  got  on  their  horses,  they  told  him  to 
stay  behind,  and  they  charged  the  Crees.  But  the  boy, 
instead  of  staying  behind,  charged  with  them,  and  took  the 
lead,  for  he  had  the  best  horse  of  all.  He,  a  boy,  was  lead- 
ing the  war  party,  and  still  singing  his  war  song. 

The  three  Crees  began  to  run,  and  the  boy  kept  gaining 
on  them.  They  did  not  want  to  separate,  they  kept 
together ;  and  as  the  boy  was  getting  closer  and  closer,  the 
last  one  turned  in  his  saddle  and  shot  at  the  Screech  Owl, 
but  missed  him.  As  the  Cree  fired,  the  boy  whipped  up  his 
horse,  and  rode  up  beside  the  Cree  and  struck  him  with  his 
little  trapping  axe,  and  knocked  him  off  his  horse.  He 
paid  no  attention  to  the  man  that  he  had  struck,  but  rode 
on  to  the  next  Cree.  As  he  came  up  with  him,  the  Cree 
raised  his  gun  and  fired,  but  just  as  he  did  so,  the  Blackfoot 
dropped  down  on  the  other  side  of  his  horse,  and  the  ball 
passed  over  him.  He  straightened  up  on  his  horse,  rode  up 
by  the  Cree,  and  as  he  passed,  knocked  him  off  his  horse 
with  his  axe.  When  he  knocked  the  second  Cree  off  his 
horse,  the  Blackfeet,  who  were  following,  whooped  in  triumph 


84  STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 

and  to  encourage  him,  shouting,  "A-wah-heh' "  (Take  cour- 
age) .     The  boy  was  still  singing  his  father's  war  song. 

By  this  time,  the  main  body  of  the  Blackfeet  were  catch- 
ing up  with  him.  He  whipped  his  horse  on  both  sides,  and 
rode  on  after  the  third  Cree,  who  was  also  whipping  his 
horse  as  hard  as  he  could,  and  trying  to  get  away.  Mean- 
time, some  of  the  Blackfeet  had  stopped  to  count  coup  on 
and  scalp  the  two  dead  Crees,  and  to  catch  the  two  ponies. 
Screech  Owl  at  last  got  near  to  the  third  Cree,  who  kept 
aiming  his  gun  at  him.  The  boy  did  not  want  to  get  too 
close,  until  the  Cree  had  fired  his  gun,  but  he  was  gaining 
a  little,  and  all  the  time  was  throwing  himself  from  side  to 
side  on  his  horse,  so  as  to  make  it  harder  for  the  Cree  to 
hit  him.  When  he  had  nearly  overtaken  the  enemy,  the 
Cree  turned,  raised  his  gun  and  fired ;  but  the  boy  had 
thrown  himself  down  behind  his  horse,  and  again  the  ball 
passed  over  him.  He  raised  himself  up  on  his  horse,  and 
rushed  on  the  Cree,  and  struck  him  in  the  side  of  the  body 
with  his  axe,  and  then  again,  and  with  the  second  blow,  he 
knocked  him  off  his  horse. 
The  boy  rode  on  a  little  further,  stopped,  and  jumped  off 

|(  his  horse,  while  the  rest  of  the  Blackfeet  had  come  up  and 

were  killing  the  fallen  man.     He  stood  off  to  one  side  and 

t ,  watched  them  count  coup  on  and  scalp  the  dead. 

p  The  Blackfeet  were  much  surprised  at  what  the  young 

'  f!  man  had  done.     After  a  little  while,  the  leader  decided  that 

they  would  go  back  to  the  camp  from  which  they  had  come. 
When  he  had  returned  from  this  war  journey  this  young 

I  man's  name  was  changed  from  A'-tsi-tsi  to  E-kus'-kini  (Low 

Horn).     This  was  his  first  war  path. 

From  that   time   on  the  name  of  E-kiis'-kini  was  often 
heard  as  that  of  one  doing  some  great  deed. 


! 


w    , 


I 


TWO   WAR   TRAILS  85 


II 


E-kus'-kini  started  on  his  last  war  trail  from  the  Black- 
foot  crossing  {Su-yoh-pah'-wah-ku) .  He  led  a  party  of  six 
Sarcees,     He  was  the  seventh  man. 

On  the  second  day  out,  they  came  to  the  Red  Deer's 
River.  When  they  reached  this  river,  they  found  it  very 
high,  so  they  built  a  raft  to  cross  on.  They  camped  on  the 
other  side.  In  crossing,  most  of  their  powder  got  wet. 
The  next  morning,  when  they  awoke,  E-kus'-kini  said : 
"Well,  trouble  is  coming  for  us.  We  had  better  go  back 
from  here.  We  started  on  a  wrong  day.  I  saw  in  my 
sleep  our  bodies  lying  on  the  prairie,  dead,"  Some  of  the 
young  men  said  :  "  Oh  well,  we  have  started,  we  had  better 
go  on.     Perhaps  it  is  only  a  mistake.     Let  us  go  on  and  try  \ 

to   take   some   horses   anyhow."      E-kiis'-kini  said:  "Yes,  li' 

that  is  very  true.  To  go  home  is  all  foolishness;  but 
remember  that  it  is  by  your  wish  that  we  are  going  on." 
He  wanted  to  go  back,  not  on  his  own  account,  but  for  the 
sake  of  his  young  men  —  to  save  his  followers. 

From  there  they  went  on  and  made  another  camp,  and 
the  next  morning  he  said  to  his  young  men  :  "  Now  I  am  \ 

sure.     I  have  seen  it  for  certain.     Trouble  is  before  us."  ' 

They  camped  two  nights  at  this  place  and  dried  some  of 
their  powder,  but  most  of  it  was  caked  and  spoilt.  He 
said  to  his  young  men  :  "  Here,  let  us  use  some  sense  about 
this.  We  have  no  ammunition.  We  cannot  defend  our- 
;  selves.    Let  us  turn  back  from  here."    So  they  started 

across  the  country  for  their  camp. 

They  crossed  the  Red  Deer's  River,  and  there  camped 
again.  The  next  morning  E-kus'-kini  said :  "  I  feel  very 
uneasy  to-day.  Two  of  you  go  ahead  on  the  trail  and  keep 
a  close  lookout.  I  am  afraid  that  to-day  we  are  going  to 
see  our  enemy."  Two  of  the  young  men  went  ahead,  and 
when  they  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  a  ridge  and  looked 


86 


STORIES    OI-    ADVENTURE 


over  it  on  to  Sarvis  Berry  (Saskatoon)  Creek,  they  came  back 
and  told  E-kus'-kini  that  they  had  seen  a  large  camp  of 
people  over  there,  and  that  they  thought  it  was  the  Piegans, 
Bloods,  Blackfeet,  and  Sarcees,  who  had  all  moved  over 
there  together.  Saskatoon  Creek  was  about  twenty  miles 
from  the  Blackfoot  camp.  He  said  :  "  No,  it  cannot  be  our 
people.  They  said  nothing  about  moving  over  here  ;  it  must 
be  a  war  party.  It  is  only  a  few  days  since  we  left,  and  there 
was  then  no  talk  of  their  leaving  that  camp.  It  cannot  be 
they."  The  two  young  men  said :  "  Yes,  they  are  our 
people.  There  are  too  many  of  them  for  a  war  party.  We 
think  that  the  whole  camp  is  there."  They  discussed  this 
for  some  little  time,  E-kus'-kini  insisting  that  it  could  not  be 
the  Blackfoot  camp,  while  the  young  men  felt  sure  that  it 
was.  These  two  men  said,  "  Well,  we  are  going  on  into  the 
camp  now."  Low  Horn  said :  **  Well,  you  may  go.  Tell 
my  father  that  I  will  come  into  the  camp  to-night.  I  do 
not  like  to  go  in  in  the  daytime,  when  I  am  not  bringing 
back  anything  with  me." 

It  was  now  late  in  the  afternoon,  and  the  two  young  men 
went  ahead  toward  the  camp,  travelling  on  slowly.  A  little 
after  sundown,  they  came  down  the  hill  on  to  the  flat  of  the 
river,  and  saw  there  the  camp.  They  walked  down  toward  it, 
to  the  edge  of  the  stream,  and  there  met  two  women,  who  had 
come  down  after  water.  The  men  spoke  to  them  in  Sarcee, 
and  said,  "Where  is  the  Sarcee  camp?"  The  women  did 
not  understand  them,  so  they  spoke  again,  and  asked  the 
same  question  in  Blackfoot.  Then  these  two  women  called 
out  in  the  Cree  language,  "Here  are  two  Blackfeet,  who 
have  come  here  and  are  talking  to  us."  When  these  men 
heard  the  women  talk  Cree,  and  saw  what  a  mistake  they 
had  made,  they  turned  and  ran  away  up  the  creek.  They 
ran  up  above  camp  a  short  distance,  to  a  place  where  a  few 
willow  bushes  were  hanging  over  the  stream,  and  pushing 
through  these,  they  hid  under  the  bank,  and  the  willows  above 


I 


I 


\ 


k. 


TWO    WAR    TRAILS 


87 


1 


concealed  them.  The  people  in  the  camp  came  rushing 
out,  and  men  ran  up  the  creek,  and  down,  and  looked  every- 
where for  the  two  enemies,  but  could  find  nothing  of  them. 

Now  when  these  people  were  running  in  all  directions, 
hunting  for  these  two  men,  E-kus'-kini  was  coming  down  the 
valley  slowly  with  the  four  other  Sarcees.  He  saw  some 
Indians  coming  toward  him,  and  supposed  that  they  were 
some  of  his  own  people,  coming  to  meet  him,  with  horses 
for  him  to  ride.  At  length,  when  they  were  close  to  him, 
and  E-kus'-kini  could  see  that  they  were  the  enemy,  and 
were  taking  the  covers  off  their  guns,  he  jumped  to  one  side 
and  stood  alone  and  began  to  sing  his  war  song.  He  called 
out,  "  Children  of  the  Crees,  if  you  have  come  to  try  my 
manhood,  do  your  best."  In  a  moment  or  two  he  was 
surrounded,  and  they  were  shooting  at  him  from  all  direc- 
tions. He  called  out  again,  "  People,  you  can't  kill  me 
here,  but  I  will  take  my  body  to  your  camp,  and  there  you 
shall  kill  me."  So  he  advanced,  fighting  his  way  toward  the 
Cree  camp,  but  before  he  started,  he  killed  two  of  the  Crees 
there.  His  enemies  kept  coming  up  and  clustering  about 
him  :  some  were  on  foot  and  some  on  horseback.  They  were 
thick  about  him  on  all  sides,  and  they  could  not  shoot  much 
at  him,  for  fear  of  killing  their  own  people  on  the  other 
side. 

One  of  the  Sarcees  fell.  E-kus'-kini  said  to  his  men, 
^^  A-wah-heh' ^^  (Take  courage).  "These  people  cannot  kill 
us  here.  Where  that  patch  of  choke-cherry  brush  is,  in  the 
very  centre  of  their  camp,  we  will  go  and  take  our  stand." 
Another  Sarcee  fell,  and  now  there  were  only  three  of  them. 
E-kus'-kini  said  to  his  remaining  men  :  "  Go  straight  to  that 
patch  of  brush,  and  I  will  fight  the  enemy  off  in  front  and  at 
the  sides,  and  so  will  keep  the  way  open  for  you.  These 
people  cannot  kill  us  here.  There  are  too  many  of  their 
own  people.  If  we  can  get  to  that  brush,  we  will  hurt  them 
badly."     All  this  time  they  were  killing  enemies,  fighting 


^aa 


T 


88 


STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 


:'  t 


bravely,  and  singing  their  war  songs.  At  last  they  gained 
the  patch  of  brush,  and  then  with  their  knives  they  began  to 
dig  holes  in  the  ground,  and  to  throw  up  a  shelter. 

In  the  Cree  camp  was  Kom-in'-a-kiis  (Round),  the  chief 
of  the  Crees,  who  could  talk  Blackfoot  well.  He  called  out : 
"  E-kus'-kini,  there  is  a  little  ravine  running  out  of  that 
brush  patch,  which  puts  into  the  hills.  Crawl  out  through 
that,  and  try  to  get  away.  '  It  is  not  guarded."  E-kiis'-kini 
replied  :  "  No,  Children  of  the  Crees,  I  will  not  go.  You 
must  remember  that  it  is  E-kiis'-kini  that  you  are  fighting 
with  —  a  man  who  has  done  much  harm  to  your  people.  I 
am  glad  that  I  am  here.  I  am  sorry  for  only  one  thing; 
that  is,  that  my  ammunition  is  going  to  run  out.  To-morrow 
you  may  kill  me." 

All  night  long  the  fight  was  kept  up,  the  enemy  shooting 
all  the  time,  and  all  night  long  E-kus'-kini  sang  his  death 
song.  K6m-in'-a-kus  called  to  him  several  times  :  "  E-kus'- 
kini,  you  had  better  do  what  I  tell  you.  Try  to  get  away." 
But  he  shouted  back,  "No,"  and  laughed  at  them.  He 
said  .  "  You  have  killed  all  my  men.  I  am  here  alone,  but 
you  cannot  kill  me."  K6m-in'-a-kus,  the  chief,  said  :  "Well, 
if  you  are  there  at  daylight  in  the  morning,  I  will  go  into 
that  brush  and  will  catch  you  with  my  hands.  I  will  be  the 
man  who  will  put  an  end  to  you,"  E-kus'-kini  said  :  "  Kom- 
in'-a-kiis,  do  not  try  to  do  that.  If  you  do,  you  shall  surely 
die."  The  patch  of  brush  in  which  he  had  hidden  had 
now  been  all  shot  away,  cut  off  by  the  bullets  of  the  enemy. 

When  day  came,  E-kus'-kini  called  out :  "  Eh,  K6m-in'-a- 
kus,  it  is  broad  daylight  now.  I  have  run  out  of  ammuni- 
tion. I  have  not  another  grain  of  powder  in  my  horn. 
Now  come  and  take  me  in  your  hands,  as  you  said  you 
would."  Kom-in'-a-kus  answered  :  "  Yes,  I  said  that  I  was 
the  one  who  was  going  to  catch  you  this  morning.  Now  I 
am  coming." 

He  took  off  all  his   clothes,  and   alone   rushed  for   the 


\ 


1 


TWO    WAR    TRAILS  89 

breastworks.  E-kus'-kini's  ammunition  was  all  gone,  but 
he  still  had  one  load  in  his  gun,  and  his  dagger.  K6m-in'-a- 
kus  came  on  with  his  gun  at  his  shoulder,  and  E-kus'-kini 
sat  there  with  his  gun  in  his  hand,  looking  at  the  man  who 
was  coming  toward  him  with  the  cocked  gun  pointed  at 
him.  He  was  singing  his  death  song.  As  K6m-in'-a-kus 
got  up  close,  and  just  as  he  was  about  to  fire,  E-kus'-kini 
threw  up  his  gun  and  fired,  and  the  ball  knocked  off  the 
Cree  chief's  forefinger,  and  going  on,  entered  his  right  eye 
and  came  out  at  the  temple,  knocking  the  eye  out.  Kom- 
in'-a-kus  went  down,  and  his  gun  flew  a  long  way. 

When  K6m-in'-a-kus  fell,  the  whole  camp  shouted  the 
war  whoop,  and  cried  out,  "  This  is  his  last  shot,"  and  they 
all  charged  on  him.  They  knew  that  he  had  no  more 
ammunition. 

The  head  warrior  of  the  Crees  was  named  Bunch  of 
Lodges.  He  was  the  first  man  to  jump  inside  the  breast- 
works. As  he  sprang  inside,  E-kus'-kini  met  him,  and 
thrust  his  dagger  through  him,  and  killed  him  on  the  spot. 
Then,  as  the  enemy  threw  themselves  on  him,  and  he  began 
to  feel  the  knives  stuck  into  him  from  all  sides,  he  gave  a 
war  whoop  and  laughed,  and  said,  "  Only  now  I  begin  to 
think  that  I  am  fighting."  All  the  time  he  was  cutting  and 
stabbing,  jumping  backward  and  forward,  and  all  the  time 
laughing.  When  he  was  dead,  there  were  fifteen  dead  Crees 
lying  about  the  earthworks.  E-kQs'-kini's  body  was  cut 
into  small  pieces  and  scattered  all  over  the  country,  so  that 
he  might  not  come  to  life  again. 

Ill 

That  morning,  before  it  was  daylight,  the  two  Sarcees 
who  had  hidden  in  the  willows  left  their  hiding-place  and 
made  their  way  to  the  Blackfoot  camp.  When  they  got 
there,  they  told  that  when  they  had  left  the  Cree  camp  E-kus'- 


14 


go  STORIES    OF    ADVENTURE 

kini  was  surrounded,  and   the  firing  was   terrible.     When 

E-kiis'-kini's  father  heard  this,  he  got  on  his  horse  and  rode 

through  the  camp,  calHng  out :  "  My  boy  is  surrounded ;  let 

us  turn  out  and  go  to  help  him.     I  have  no  doubt  they  are 

many  tens  to  one,  but  he  is  powerful,  and  he  may  be  fighting 

yet."     No  time  was  lost  in  getting  ready,  and  soon  a  large  il 

party  started  for  the  Cree  camp.     When  they  came  to  the 

battle-ground,  the  camp  had  been  moved  a  long  time.    The 

old  man  looked  about,  trying  to  gather  up  his  son's  body, 

but  it  was  found  only  in  small  pieces,  and  not  more  than 

half  of  it  could  be  gathered  up. 

After  the  fight  was  over,  the  Crees  started  on  down  to  go 
to  their  own  country.  One  day  six  Crees  were  travelling 
along  on  foot,  scouting  far  ahead.  As  they  were  going  down 
into  a  little  ravine,  a  grizzly  bear  jumped  up  in  front  of  them 
and  ran  after  them.  The  bear  overtook,  and  tore  up,  five  of 
them,  one  after  another.  The  sixth  got  away,  and  came  home 
to  camp.  The  Crees  and  the  Blackfeet  believe  that  this  was 
the  spirit  of  E-k\is'-kini,  for  thus  he  comes  back.  They 
think  that  he  is  still  on  the  earth,  but  in  a  different  shape. 

E-kus'-kini  was  killed  about  forty  years  ago.  When  he 
was  killed,  he  was  still  a  boy,  not  married,  only  about 
twenty-four  years  old. 


i 


m 


I 


STORIES  OF  ANCIENT  TIMES 


i 


: 


'j.' 


■■■■■I 


I 


i 


ik 


L 


SCARFACE 

Origin  of  the  Medicine  Lodge 


In  the  earliest  times  there  was  no  war.  All  the  tribes 
were  at  peace.  In  those  days  there  was  a  man  who  had  a 
daughter,  a  very  beautiful  girl.  Many  young  men  wanted 
to  marry  her,  but  every  time  she  was  asked,  she  only  shook 
her  head  and  said  she  did  not  want  a  husband. 
I  "  How  is  this  ?  "  asked  her  father.     "  Some  of  these  young 

men  are  rich,  handsome,  and  brave." 

"  Why  should  I  marry  ?  "  replied  the  girl.  "  I  have  a  rich 
father  and  mother.  Our  lodge  is  good.  The  parfleches  are 
never  empty.  There  are  plenty  of  tanned  robes  and  soft 
furs  for  winter.     Why  worry  me,  then?  " 

The  Raven  Bearers  held  a  dance ;  they  all  dressed  care- 
fully and  wore  their  ornaments,  and  each  one  tried  to  dance 
the  best.  Afterwards  some  of  them  asked  for  this  girl,  but 
still  she  said  no.  Then  the  Bulls,  the  Kit-foxes,  and  others 
of  the  I-kitn-uh'-kah-tsi  held  their  dances,  and  all  those  who 
were  rich,  many  great  warriors,  asked  this  man  for  his 
daughter,  but  to  every  one  of  them  she  said  no.  Then  her 
father  was  angry,  and  said  :  "  Why,  now,  this  way?  All  the 
best  men  have  asked  for  you,  and  still  you  say  no.  I  believe 
you  have  a  secret  lover." 

"  Ah  ! "  said  her  mother.  "  What  shame  for  us  should  a 
child  be  born  and  our  daughter  still  unmarried  !  "  "  Father  ! 
mother  !  "  replied  the  girl,  "  pity  me.     I  have  no  secret  lover, 

93 


maamt 


V 


94 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


^!| 


but  now  hear  the  truth.  That  Above  Person,  the  Sun,  told 
me, '  Do  not  marry  any  of  those  men,  for  you  are  mine ; 
thus  you  shall  be  happy,  and  live  to  great  age  ' ;  and  again 
he  said,  'Take  heed.   You  must  not  marry.   You  are  mine.'  " 

"Ah!"  replied  her  father.  "It  must  always  be  as  he 
says."     And  they  talked  no  more  about  it. 

There  was  a  poor  young  man,  very  poor.  His  father, 
mother,  all  his  relations,  had  gone  to  the  Sand  Hills.  He 
had  no  lodge,  no  wife  to  tan  his  robes  or  sew  his  moccasins. 
He  stopped  in  one  lodge  to-day,  and  to-morrow  he  ate  and 
slept  in  another;  thus  he  lived.  He  was  a  good-looking 
young  man,  except  that  on  his  cheek  he  had  a  scar,  and  his 
clothes  were  always  old  and  poor. 

After  those  dances  some  of  the  young  men  met  this  poor 
Scarface,  and  they  laughed  at  him,  and  said  :  "  Why  don't 
you  ask  that  girl  to  marry  you  ?  You  are  so  rich  and  hand- 
some !  "  Scarface  did  not  laugh  ;  he  replied  :  "  Ah  !  I  will 
do  as  you  say.  I  will  go  and  ask  her."  All  the  young  men 
thought  this  was  funny.  They  laughed  a  great  deal.  But 
Scarface  went  down  by  the  river.  He  waited  by  the  river, 
where  the  women  came  to  get  water,  and  by  and  by  the  girl 
came  along.  "  Girl,"  he  said,  "  wait.  I  want  to  speak  with 
you.  Not  as  a  designing  person  do  I  ask  you,  but  openly, 
where  the  Sun  looks  down,  and  all  may  see." 

"  Speak  then,"  said  the  girl. 

"I  have  seen  the  days,"  continued  the  young  man. 
"You  have  refused  those  who  are  young,  and  rich,  and 
brave.  Now,  to-day,  they  laughed  and  said  to  me,  '  Why 
do  you  not  ask  her  ? '  I  am  poor,  very  poor.  I  have  no 
lodge,  no  food,  no  clothes,  no  robes  and  warm  furs.  I  have 
no  relations ;  all  have  gone  to  the  Sand  Hills  ;  yet,  now,  to-day, 
I  ask  you,  take  pity,  be  my  wife." 

The  girl  hid  her  face  in  her  robe  and  brushed  the  ground 
with  the  point  of  her  moccasin,  back  and  forth,  back  and 
forth ;  for  she  was  thinking.    After  a  time  she  said  :  "  True. 


T 


SCARFACE 


95 


I  have  refused  all  those  rich  young  men,  yet  now  the  poor 
one  asks  me,  and  I  am  glad.  I  will  be  your  wife,  and  my 
people  will  be  happy.  You  are  poor,  but  it  does  not  matter. 
My  father  will  give  you  dogs.  My  mother  will  make  us  a 
lodge.  My  people  will  give  us  robes  and  furs.  You  will  be 
poor  no  longer," 

Then  the  young  man  was  happy,  and  he  started  to  kiss 
her,  but  she  held  him  back,  and  said  :  "  Wait !  The  Sun  has 
spoken  to  me.  He  says  I  may  not  marry  ;  that  I  belong  to 
him.  He  says  if  I  listen  to  him,  I  shall  live  to  great  age. 
But  now  I  say  :  Go  to  the  Sun.  Tell  him,  '  She  whom  you 
spoke  with  heeds  your  words.  She  has  never  done  wrong, 
but  now  she  wants  to  marry.  I  want  her  for  my  wife.'  Ask 
him  to  take  that  scar  from  your  face.  That  will  be  his  sign. 
I  will  know  he  is  pleased.  But  if  he  refuses,  or  if  you  fail  to 
find  his  lodge,  then  do  not  return  to  me." 

"  Oh  !  "  cried  the  young  man,  "  at  first  your  words  were 
good.  I  was  glad.  But  now  it  is  dark.  My  heart  is  dead. 
Where  is  that  far-off  lodge  ?  where  the  trail,  which  no  one 
yet  has  travelled?" 

"  Take  courage,  take  courage  !  "  said  t  le  girl ;  and  she 
went  to  her  lodge. 

II 

Scarface  was  very  sad.  He  sat  down  and  covered  his 
head  with  his  robe  and  tried  to  think  what  to  do.  After  a 
while  he  got  up,  and  went  to  an  old  woman  who  had  been 
kind  to  him.  "Pity  me,"  he  said.  "I  am  very  poor.  I 
am  going  away  now  on  a  long  journey.  Make  me  some 
moccasins." 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  asked  the  old  woman.  "  There 
is  no  war ;  we  are  very  peaceful  here." 

"  I  do  not  know  where  I  shall  go,"  repHed  Scarface.  "  I 
am  in  trouble,  but  I  cannot  tell  you  now  what  it  is." 

So  the  old  woman  made  him  some  moccasins,  seven  pairs, 


II 


i 


:i 


1 


96 


STORIES    OF    ANXIENT    TIMES 


with  parfleche  soles,  and  also  she  gave  him  a  sack  of  food,  — 
pemmican  of  berries,  pounded  meat,  and  dried  back  fat ;  for 
this  old  woman  had  a  good  heart.     She  liked  the  young  man. 

All  alone,  and  with  a  sad  heart,  he  climbed  the  bluffs  and 
stopped  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  camp.  He  wondered  if  he 
would  ever  see  his  sweetheart  and  the  people  again.  "  J/ai'. 
yu  !  Pity  me,  O  Sun,"  he  prayed,  and  turning,  he  started 
to  find  the  trail. 

For  many  days  he  travelled  on,  over  great  prairies,  along 
timbered  rivers  and  among  the  mountains,  and  every  day  his 
sack  of  food  grew  lighter ;  but  he  saved  it  as  much  as  he 
could,  and  ate  berries,  and  roots,  and  sometimes  he  killed  an 
animal  of  some  kind.  One  night  he  stopped  by  the  home 
of  a  wolf.  ''Hai-yah  !  "  said  that  one  ;  "  what  is  ray  brother 
doing  so  far  from  home?  " 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  Scarface,  "  I  seek  the  place  where  the 
Sun  lives ;  I  am  sent  to  speak  with  him." 

"  I  have  travelled  far,"  said  the  wolf.  "  I  know  all  the 
prairies,  the  valleys,  and  the  mountains,  but  I  have  never 
seen  the  Sun's  home.  Wait;  I  know  one  who  is  very  wise. 
Ask  the  bear.     He  may  tell  you." 

The  next  day  the  man  travelled  on  again,  stopping  now 
and  then  to  pick  a  few  berries,  and  when  night  came  he 
arrived  at  the  bear's  lodge. 

"  Where  is  your  home  ?  "  asked  the  bear.  "  Why  are  you 
travelling  alone,  my  brother?" 

"  Help  me  !  Pity  me  ! "  replied  the  young  man  ;  "  because 
of  her  words  *  I  seek  the  Sun.     I  go  to  ask  him  for  her." 

"I  know  not  where  he  stops,"  replied  the  bear.  "  I  have 
travelled  by  many  rivers,  and  I  know  the  mountains,  yet  I 
have  never  seen  his  lodge.  There  is  some  one  beyond,  that 
striped-face,  who  is  very  smart.     Go  and  ask  him." 

The  badger  was  in  his  hole.     Stooping  over,  the  young 

1 A  Blackfoot  often  talks  of  what  this  or  that  person  said,  without  men- 
tioning names. 


SCARFACE 


97 


man  shouted:  ''Oh,  cunning  striped-face!  Oh,  generous 
animal  !    I  wish  to  speak  with  you." 

"What  do  you  want?"  said  the  badger,  poking  his  head 
out  of  the  hole. 

"I  want  to  find. the  Sim's  home,"  replied  Scarface.  "  I 
want  to  speak  with  him." 

"  I  do  not  know  where  he  lives,"  replied  the  badgf^'-.  "  I 
never  travel  very  f;ir.  OVer  there  in  the  timber  is  a  wol- 
verine. He  is  always  travelling  around,  and  is  of  much 
knowledge.     Maybe  he  can  tell  you." 

Then  Scarface  went  to  the  woods  and  looked  all  around 
for  the  wolverine,  but  could  not  find  him.  So  he  sat  down 
to  rest.  "  Hai'-yi/  !  Hai'-yti  !  "  he  cried.  "  Wolverine,  take 
pity  on  me.  My  food  is  gone,  my  moccasins  worn  out. 
Now  I  must  die." 

"  What  is  it,  my  brother?  "  he  heard,  and  looking  around, 
he  saw  the  animal  sitting  near. 

"  She  whom  I  would  marry,"  said  Scarface,  "  belongs  to 
the  Sun ;  I  am  trying  to  find  where  he  lives,  to  ask  him  for  her." 

"  Ah  1 "  said  the  wolverine.  "  I  know  where  he  lives. 
Wait ;  it  is  nearly  night.  To-morrow  I  will  show  you  the 
trail  to  the  big  water.     He  lives  on  the  other  side  of  it." 

Early  in  the  morning,  the  wolverine  showed  him  the  trail, 
and  Scarface  followed  it  until  he  came  to  the  water's  edge. 
He  looked  out  over  it,  and  his  heart  almost  stopped.  Never 
before  had  any  one  seen  such  a  big  water.  The  other  side 
could  not  be  seen,  and  there  was  no  end  to  it.  Scarface  sat 
down  on  the  shore.  His  food  was  all  gone,  his  mocca- 
sins worn  out.  His  heart  was  sick.  "  I  cannot  cross  this 
big  water,"  he  said.  "  I  cannot  return  to  the  people.  Here, 
by  this  water,  I  shall  die." 

Not  so.  His  Helpers  were  there.  Two  swans  came  swim- 
ming up  to  the  shore.  "Why  have  you  come  here?"  they 
asked  him.  "What  are  you  doing?  It  is  very  far  to  the 
place  where  your  people  live." 


:    I 

I 

I 


1 

1  'f 

1     ■ 

^t 
f 

^)- 

I 

1 

r 

•1; 

98 


STORIES    or    ANCIKNT    TIMES 


"  I  am  here,"  replied  Scarface,  "  to  die.  Far  away,  in 
my  country,  is  a  beautiful  girl.  I  want  to  marry  her,  but 
she  belongs  to  the  Sun.  So  I  started  to  find  him  and  ask 
for  her.  I  have  travelled  many  days.  My  food  is  gone.  I 
cannot  go  back.  I  cannot  cross  this  big  water,  so  I  am 
going  to  die." 

"  No,"  said  the  swans  ;  "  it  shall  not  be  so.  Across  this 
water  is  the  home  of  that  Above  Person.  Get  on  our  backs, 
and  we  will  take  you  tliere." 

Scarface  quickly  arose.  He  felt  strong  again.  He  waded 
out  into  the  water  and  lay  down  on  the  swans'  backs,  and 
they  started  off.  Very  deep  and  black  is  that  fearful 
water.  Strange  people  live  there,  mighty  animals  which 
often  seize  and  drown  a  person.  The  swans  carried  him 
safely,  and  took  him  to  the  other  side.  Here  was  a  broad 
hard  trail  leading  back  from  the  water's  edge. 

"  ^7,"  said  the  swans.  "  You  are  now  close  to  the  Sun's 
lodge.     Follow  that  trail,  and  you  will  soon  see  it." 

HI 

Scarface  started  ui>  the  trail,  and  pretty  soon  he  came  to 
some  beautiful  things,  lying  in  it.  There  was  a  war  shirt, 
a  shield,  and  a  bow  and  arrows.  He  had  never  seen  such 
pretty  weapons ;  but  he  did  not  touch  them.  He  walked 
carefully  around  them,  and  travelled  on.  A  little  way  fur- 
ther on,  he  met  a  young  man,  the  handsomest  person  he 
had  ever  seen.  His  hair  was  very  long,  and  he  wore  cloth- 
ing made  of  strange  skins.  His  moccasins  were  sewn  with 
bright  colored  feathers.  The  young  man  said  to  him,  "  Did 
you  see  some  weapons  lying  on  the  trail?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Scarfoce  ;  "  I  saw  them." 

"But  did  you  not  touch  them?  "  asked  the  young  man. 

"  No ;  I  thought  some  one  had  left  them  there,  so  I  did 
not  take  them." 


I 


SCARFACE 


99 


.. 


i« 


"  You  are  not  a  thief,"  said  the  young  man.  "  What  is 
your  name  ?  " 

"  Scarface." 

"  Where  are  you  going? " 

"  To  the  Sun." 

"  My  name,"  said  the  young  man,  "  is  A-pi-su'-ahts.'  The 
Sun  is  my  fother ;  come,  I  will  take  you  to  our  lodge.  My 
father  is  not  now  at  home,  but  he  will  come  in  at  night," 

Soon  they  came  to  the  lodge.  It  was  very  large  and 
handsome ;  strange  medicine  animals  were  painted  on  it. 
Behind,  on  a  tripod,  were  strange  weapons  and  beautiful 
clothes  —  the  Sun's.  Scarface  was  ashamed  to  go  in,  but 
Morning  Star  said,  "  Do  not  be  afraid,  my  friend ;  we  are 
glad  you  have  come." 

They  entered.  One  person  was  sitting  there,  Ko-ko-mik'- 
e-is,-  the  Sun's  wife,  Morning  Star's  mother.  She  spoke  to 
Scarface.  kindly,  and  gave  him  something  to  eat.  "Why 
have  you  come  so  far  from  your  people?  "  she  asked. 

Then  Scarface  told  her  about  the  beautiful  girl  he  wanted 
to  marry.  "  She  belongs  to  the  Sun,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
come  to  ask  him  for  her." 

When  it  was  time  for  the  Sun  to  come  home,  the  Moon 
hid  Scarface  under  a  pile  of  robes.  As  soon  as  the  Sun  got 
to  the  doorway,  he  stopped,  and  said,  "  I  smell  a  person." 

"  Yes,  father,"  said  Morning  Star ;  "  a  good  young  man 
has  come  to  see  you.  I  know  he  is  good,  for  he  found  some 
of  my  things  on  the  trail  and  did  not  touch  them." 

Then  Scarface  came  out  from  under  the  robes,  and  the 
Sun  entered  and  sat  down.  "  I  am  glad  you  have  come  to 
our  lodge,"  he  said.  '*  Stay  with  us  as  long  as  you  think 
best.     My  son  is  lonesome  sometimes ;  be  his  friend." 

The  next  day  the  Moon  called  Scarface  out  of  the  lodge, 
and  said  to  him  :  "  Go  with  Morning  Star  where  you  please, 
but  never  hunt  near  that  big  water ;  do  not  let  him  go  there. 

1  Early  Riser,  i.e.  The  Morning  Star.        ^  xjght  red  light,  the  Moon. 


* 


lOO 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


i  I 


'5 


It  is  the  home  of  great  birds  which  have  long  sharp  bills ; 
they  kill  people.  I  have  hail  many  sons,  but  these  birds  have 
k'Ued  them  all.    Morning  Star  is  the  only  one  left." 

So  Scarface  stayed  there  a  long  time  and  hunted  with 
Morning  Star.  One  day  they  came  near  the  water,  and  saw 
the  big  birds. 

"  Come,"  said  Morning  Star ;  "  let  us  go  and  kill  those 
birds." 

"No,  no!"  replied  Scarface  ;  "we  must  not  go  there. 
Those  are  very  terrible  birds ;  they  will  kill  us." 

Morning  Star  would  not  listen.  He  ran  towards  the  water, 
and  Scarface  followed.  He  knew  that  he  must  kill  the  birds 
and  save  the  boy.  If  not,  the  Sun  would  be  angry  and 
might  kill  him.  He  ran  ahead  and  met  the  birds,  which 
were  coming  towards  him  to  fight,  and  killed  every  one  of 
them  with  his  spear :  not  one  was  left.  Then  the  young 
men  cut  off  their  heads,  and  carried  them  home.  Morning 
Star's  mother  was  glad  when  they  told  her  what  they  had 
done,  and  showed  her  the  birds'  heads.  She  cried,  and 
called  Scarface  "  my  son."  When  the  Sun  came  home  at 
night,  she  told  him  about  it,  and  he  too  was  glad.  "  My 
son,"  he  said  to  Scarface,  "  I  will  not  forget  what  you  have 
this  day  done  for  me.  Tell  me  now,  what  can  I  do  for 
you  ?  " 

''Bai'-yu,'"  replied  Scarface.  "Hai'-yu,  pity  me.  I  am 
here  to  ask  you  for  that  girl.  I  want  to  marry  her.  I  asked 
her,  and  she  was  glad ;  but  she  says  you  own  her,  that  you 
told  her  not  to  marry." 

"  What  you  say  is  true,"  said  the  Sun.  "  I  have  watched 
the  days,  so  I  know  it.  Now,  then,  I  give  her  to  you ;  she 
is  yours.  I  am  glad  she  has  been  wise.  I  know  she  has 
never  done  wrong.  The  Sun  pities  good  women.  They 
shall  live  a  long  time.  So  shall  their  husbands  and  children. 
Now  you  will  soon  go  home.  Let  me  tell  you  something. 
Be  wise  and  listen :    I  am  the  only  chief.     Everything   is 


SCARFACE 


lOI 


mine.  I  made  the  earth,  the  mountains,  prairies,  rivers,  and 
forests.  I  made  the  people  and  all  the  animals.  This  is 
why  I  say  I  alone  am  the  chief.  I  can  never  die.  True, 
the  winter  makes  me  old  and  weak,  but  every  summer  I 
grow  young  again." 

Then  said  the  Sun  ;  "  What  one  of  all  animals  is  smart- 
est? The  raven  is,  for  he  always  finds  food.  He  is  never 
hungry.  Which  one  of  all  the  animals  is  most  Nat-o'-ye '  ? 
The  buffalo  is.  Of  all  animals,  I  like  him  best.  He  is  for 
the  people.  He  is  your  food  and  your  shelter.  What  part 
of  his  body  is  sacred  ?  The  tongue  is.  That  is  mine.  What 
else  is  sacred?  Berries  are.  They  are  mine  too.  Come 
with  me  and  see  the  world."  He  took  Scarface  to  the  edge 
of  the  sky,  and  they  looked  down  and  saw  it.  !♦"  is  round 
and  flat,  and  all  around  the  edge  is  the  jumping-off  place  [or 
walls  straight  down].  Then  said  the  Sun  :  "  When  any  man 
is  sick  or  in  danger,  his  wife  may  promise  to  build  me  a 
lodge,  if  he  recovers.  If  the  woman  is  pure  and  true,  then  I 
will  be  pleased  and  help  the  man.  But  if  she  is  bad,  if  she 
lies,  then  I  will  be  angry.  You  shall  build  the  lodge  like 
the  world,  round,  with  walls,  but  first  you  must  build  a 
sweat  house  of  a  hundred  sticks.  It  shall  be  like  the  sky 
[a  hemisphere],  and  half  of  it  shall  be  painted  red.  That  is 
me.     The  other  half  you  will  paint  black.     That  is  the  night." 

Further  said  the  Sun :  "  Which  is  the  best,  the  heart  or 
the  brain?  The  brain  is.  The  heart  often  lies,  the  brain 
never."  Then  he  told  Scarface  everything  about  making 
the  Medicine  Lodge,  and  when  he  had  finished,  he  rubbed  a 
powerful  medicine  on  his  face,  and  the  scar  disappeared. 
Then  he  gave  him  two  raven  feathers,  saying :  "  These  are 
the  sign  for  the  girl,  that  I  give  her  to  you.  They  must 
always  be  worn  by  the  husband  of  the  woman  who  builds  a 
Medicine  Lodge." 

1  This  word  may  be  translated  as  "  of  the  Sun,"  "  having  Sun  power,"  or 
more  properly,  something  sacred. 


102  STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 

The  young  man  was  now  ready  to  return  home.  Morning 
Star  and  the  Sun  gave  him  many  beautiful  presents.  The 
Moon  cried  and  kissed  him,  and  called  him  "my  son." 
Then  the  Sun  showed  him  the  short  trail.  It  was  the  Wolf 
Road  (Milky  Way).  He  followed  it,  and  scon  reached  the 
ground.  ' 

IV 

It  was  a  very  hot  day.  All  the  lodge  skins  were  raised, 
|i  and  the  people  sat  in  the  shade.     There  was  a  chief,  a  very 

generous  man,  and  all  day  long  people  kept  coming  to  his 
lodge  to  feast  and  smoke  with  him.  Early  in  the  morning 
this  chief  saw  a  person  sitting  out  on  a  butte  near  by,  close 
wrapped  in  his  robe.  The  chief's  friends  came  and  went,  the 
sun  reached  the  middle,  and  passed  on,  down  towards  the 
mountains.  Still  this  person  did  not  move.  When  it  was 
almost  night,  the  chief  said  :  "  Why  does  that  person  sit 
there  so  long?  The  heat  has  been  strong,  but  he  has  never 
eaten  nor  drunk.  He  may  be  a  stranger ;  go  and  ask  him 
in." 

So  some  young  men  went  up  to  him,  and  said  :  "  Why  do 
you  sit  here  in  the  great  heat  all  day?  Come  to  the  shade 
of  the  lodges.     The  chief  asks  you  to  feast  with  him." 

Then  the  person  arose  and  threw  off  his  robe,  and  they 
were  surprised.  He  wore  beautiful  clothes.  His  bow, 
shield,  and  other  weapons  were  of  strange  make.  But  they 
knew  his  face,  although  the  scar  was  gone,  and  they  ran 
ahead,  shouting,  "  The  scarf^ice  poor  young  man  has  come. 
He  is  poor  no  longer.     The  scar  on  his  face  is  gone." 

All  the  people  rushed  out  to  see  him.  "  Where  have  you 
been?"  they  asked.  "Where  did  you  get  all  these  pretty 
things?"  He  did  not  answer.  There  in  the  crowd  stood 
that  young  woman  ;  and  taking  the  two  raven  feathers  from 
his  head,  he  gave  them  to  her,  and  said:  "The  trail  ;vas 
very  long,  and  I  nearly  died,  but  by  those  Helpers,  I  found 


T 


SCARFACE 


103 


his  lodge.     He  is  glad.     He  sends  these  feathers  to  you. 

Thev  are  the  sign."  . 

Cireat  was  her  gladness  then.  They  were  marred,  and 
made  the  first  Medicine  Lodge,  as  the  Sun  had  said.  The 
Sun  was  glad.  He  gave  them  great  age.  They  were  never 
sick  When  they  were  very  old,  one  morning,  their  children 
Slid  •  "  Awake  !  Rise  and  eat."  They  did  not  move  In 
the  night,  in  sleep,  without  pain,  their  shadows  had  de- 
parted for  the  Sand  Hills. 


ORIGIN   OF   THE   I-KUN-UH'-KAH-TSI  ^ 


The  Bull  Band 

The  people  had  built  a  great  pis'kun,  very  high  and 
strong,  so  that  no  buffalo  could  escape  ;  but  somehow  the 
buftilo  would  not  jump  over  the  cliff.  When  driven  toward 
it,  they  would  run  nearly  to  the  edge,  and  then,  swerving  to 
the  right  or  left,  they  would  go  down  the  sloping  hills  and 
cross  the  valley  in  safety.  So  the  people  were  hungry,  and 
began  to  starve. 

One  morning,  early,  a  young  woman  went  to  get  water, 
and  she  saw  a  herd  of  buffalo  feeding  on  the  prairie,  right 
on  the  edge  of  the  cliff  above  the  pis'kun.  "  Oh  !  "  she 
cried  out,  "  if  you  will  only  jump  off  into  the  pis'kun,  I  will 
,  marry  one  of  you."  This  she  said  for  fun,  not  meaning  it, 
and  great  was  her  wonder  when  she  saw  the  buffalo  come 
jumping,  tumbling,  falling  over  the  cliff. 

Now  the  young  woman  was  scared,  for  a  big  bull  with 
one  bound  cleared  the  pis'kun  walls  and  came  toward  her. 
"  Come,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  her  arm.  "  No,  no  !  "  she 
replied  pulling  back.  "  But  you  said  if  the  buffalo  would 
jump  over,  you  would  marry  one  ;  see,  the  pis'kun  is  filled." 
And  without  more  talk  he  led  her  up  over  the  bluff,  and  out 
on  to  the  prairie. 

1  An  account  of  the  I-kiin-uh-kah-tsi,  witli  a  list  of  its  different  bands  or 
societies  and  their  duties,  will  be  found  in  the  chapter  on  Social  Organiza- 
tion. 

104 

d 

\ 

1 


ORIGIN    OF    THE    1-KL'N-Ull  -KAH-TSl 


105 


i 


When  the  people  had  finished  kiUing  the  buffalo  and  cut- 
ting up  the  meat,  they  missed  this  young  woman,  and  her 
relations  were  very  sad,  because  they  could  not  find  her. 
Then  her  father  took  his  bow  and  quiver,  and  said, "  I  will 
go  and  find  her."  And  he  went  up  over  the  bluff  and  out 
on  the  prairie. 

After  he  had  travelled  some  distance  he  came  to  a  wallow, 
and  a  little  way  off  saw  a  herd  of  buffalo.  While  sitting  by 
the  wallow,  —  for  he  was  tired  —  and  thinking  what  he  should 
do,  a  magpie  came  and  lit  near  him.  "  Ha  !  Ma-me-af-si- 
kim-i,"  he  said,  "  you  are  a  beautiful  bird  ;  help  me.  Look 
everywhere  as  you  travel  about,  and  if  you  see  my  daughter, 
tell  her,  '  Your  father  waits  by  the  wallow.'  "  The  magpie 
flew  over  by  the  herd  of  buffalo,  and  seeing  the  young 
woman,  he  lit  on  the  ground  near  her,  and  commenced 
picking  around,  turning  his  head  this  way  and  that  way, 
and,  when  close  to  her,  he  said,  "  Your  father  waits  by  the 
wallow."  "  Sh-h-h  !  sh-h-h  !  "  repHed  the  girl,  in  a  whisper, 
looking  around  scared,  for  her  bull  husband  was  sleeping 
near  by.  "  Don't  speak  so  loud.  Go  back  and  tell  him  to 
wait." 

**  Your  daughter  is  over  there  with  the  buffalo.  She  says 
'  wait ! '  "  said  the  magpie,  when  he  had  flown  back  to  the 
man. 

By  and  by  the  bull  awoke,  and  said  to  his  wife,  "  Go 
and  get  me  some  water."  Then  the  woman  was  glad,  and 
taking  a  horn  from  his  head  she  went  to  the  wallow.  "  Oh, 
why  did  you  come?"  she  said  to  her  father.  "You  will 
surely  be  killed." 

"  I  came  to  take  my  daughter  home        me,  let  us  hurry." 

"  No,  no  !  "  she  replied  ;  "  not  now.  1  hey  would  chase  us 
and  kill  us.  Wait  till  he  sleeps  again,  and  I  will  try  to  get 
away,"  and,  filling  the  horn  with  water,  she  went  back. 

The  bull  drank  a  swallow  of  the  water.  "  Ha  I  "  said  he, 
"  a  person  is  close  by  here." 


I06  STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 

"  No  one,"  replied  the  woman  ;  but  her  heart  rose  up. 

The  bull  drank  a  little  more,  and  then  he  stood  up  and 
bellowed,"^//-//-///  m-iii-ah-oo!  '''  Oh,  fearful  sound  I  Up 
rose  the  bulls,  raised  their  short  tails  and  shook  them,  tossed 
their  great  heads,  and  bellowed  back.  Then  they  pawed 
the  dirt,  rushed  about  here  and  there,  and  coming  to  the 
wallow,  found  that  poor  man.  There  they  trampled  him 
with  their  great  hoofs,  hooked  him  and  trampled  him  again, 
and  soon  not  even  a  small  piece  of  his  body  could  be  seen. 

Then  his  daughter  cried,  ''Oh  !  ah  /M'-nah-ah  !  Oh  !  ah  ! 
Ni'-nah-ah  !  "  (My  father  !  My  fother  !)  "  Ah  !  "  said  her 
bull  husband,  "  you  mourn  for  your  father.  You  see  now 
how  it  is  with  us.  We  have  seen  our  mothers,  fathers, 
many  of  our  relations,  hurled  over  the  rocky  walls,  and 
killed  for  food  by  your  people.  But  I  will  pity  you.  I 
will  give  you  one  chance.  If  you  can  bring  your  father  to 
life,  you  and  he  can  go  back  to  your  people." 

Then  the  woman  said  to  the  magpie  :  "  Pity  me.  Help 
me  now ;  go  and  seek  in  the  trampled  mud ;  try  and  find  a 
little  piece  of  my  father's  body,  and  bring  it  to  me." 

The  magpie  flew  to  the  place.  He  looked  in  every  hole, 
and  tore  up  the  mud  with  his  sharp  nose.  At  last  he  found 
something  white  ;  he  picked  the  mud  from  around  it,  and 
then  pulling  hard,  he  brought  out  a  joint  of  the  backbone, 
and  flew  with  it  back  to  the  woman. 

She  placed  it  on  the  ground,  covered  it  with  her  robe, 
and  then  sang.  Removing  the  robe,  there  lay  her  father's 
body  as  if  just  dead.     Once  more  she  covered  it  with  the  J 

robe  and  sang,  and  when  she  took  away  the  robe,  he  was 
breathing,  and  then  he  stood  up.  The  buffalo  were  sur- 
prised ;  the  magpie  was  glad,  and  flew  round  and  round, 
making  a  great  noise. 

"We  have  seen  str-^nge  things  this  day,"  said  her  bull 
husband.     "  He  whom  we   trampled   to   death,  even   into  J 

small  pieces,  is  alive  again.     The  people's  medicine  is  very 


m 


ORIGIN    OF   THE    I-KUN-Uh'-KAH-TSI 


107 


strong.  Now,  before  you  go,  we  will  teach  you  our  dance 
and  our  song.  You  must  not  forget  them." '  When  the 
dance  was  over,  the  bull  said  :  "  Go  now  to  your  home,  and 
do  not  forget  what  you  have  seen.  Teach  it  to  the  people. 
The  medicine  shall  be  a  bull's  head  and  a  robe.  All  the 
persons  who  are  to  be  '  Bulls '  shall  wear  them  when  they 
dance." 

Great  was  the  joy  of  the  people,  when  the  man  returned 
with  his  daughter.  He  called  a  council  of  the  chiefs,  and 
told  them  all  that  had  happened.  Then  the  chiefs  chose 
certain  young  men,  and  this  man  taught  them  the  dance 
and  song  of  the  bulls,  and  told  them  what  the  medicine 
should  be.    This  was  the  beginning  of  the  I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi. 


ca 


II 


The  Other  Bands 


For  a  long  time  the  buffalo  had  not  been  seen.  The 
pis'kun  was  useless,  and  the  hunters  could  find  no  food  for 
the  people.  Then  a  man  who  had  two  wives,  a  daughter, 
and  two  sons,  said  :  "  I  shall  not  stop  here  to  die.  To-mor- 
row we  will  move  toward  the  mountains,  where  we  shall  per- 
haps find  deer  and  elk,  sheep  and  antelope,  or,  if  not,  at 
least  we  shall  find  plenty  of  beaver  and  birds.  Thus  we 
shall  survive." 

When  morning  came,  they  packed  the  travois,  lashed 
them  on  the  dogs,  and  then  moved  out.  It  was  yet  winter, 
and  they  travelled  slowly.  They  were  weak,  and  could  go 
but  a  little  way  in  a  day.  The  fourth  night  came,  and  they 
sat  in  their  lodge,  very  tired  and  hungry.  No  one  spoke, 
for  those  who  are  hungry  do  not  care  for  words.     Suddenly 

1  Here  tlie  narrator  repeated  the  song  and  showed  the  dance.  As  is  fit- 
ting to  tlie  dance  of  such  great  beasts,  tlie  air  is  slow  and  solemn,  and 
the  step  ponderous  and  deliberate. 


I08  STOKIIvS    OF    AXCIKNT   TIMES 

the  dogs  began  to  bark,  and  soon,  pushing  aside  the  door- 
curtain,  a  young  man  entered. 

"O'kft  /"  said  the  old  man,  and  he  motioned  the  stranger 
to  a  sitting-place. 

They  looked  at  this  person  with  surprise  and  fear,  for 
there  was  a  black  wind '  which  had  melted  the  snow,  and 
covered  the  prairie  with  water,  yet  this  person's  leggings  and 
moccasins  were  dry.     They  sat  in  silence  a  long  time. 

Then  said  he  :  "  Why  is  this  ?  Why  do  you  not  give  me 
some  food  ?  " 

"  Ah  !  "  replied  the  old  man,  "  you  behold  those  who  are 
truly  poor.  We  have  no  food.  For  many  days  the  buffalo 
did  not  come  in  sight,  and  we  shot  deer  and  other  animals 
which  people  eat,  and  when  all  these  had  been  killed,  we 
began  to  starve.  Then  said  I,  '  We  will  not  stay  here  to 
starve  to  death ' ;  and  we  started  for  the  mountains.  This 
is  the  fourth  night  of  our  travels." 

"Ah!"  said  the  young  man.  "Then  your  travels  are 
ended.  Close  by  here,  we  are  camped  by  our  pis'kun. 
Many  buffalo  have  been  run  in,  and  our  parfleches  are  filled 
with  dried  meat.     Wait ;  I  will  go  and  bring  you  some." 

As  soon  as  he  went  out,  they  began  to  talk  about  this 
strange  person.  They  were  very  much  afraid  of  him,  and 
did  not  know  what  to  do.  The  children  began  to  cry,  and 
the  women  were  trying  to  quiet  them,  when  the  young  man 
•'  returned,  bringing  some  meat  and  ihxQQ  pis-isi-ko'-an? 

"  Kyi .'  "  said  he.  "  To-morrow  move  over  to  our  lodges. 
Do  not  be  afraid.  No  matter  what  strange  things  you  see, 
do  not  fear.  All  will  be  your  friends.  Now,  one  thing  I 
caution  you  about.  In  this  be  careful.  If  you  should  find 
an  arrow  lying  about,  in  the  pis'kun,  or  outside,  no  matter 
where,  do  not  touch  it ;  neither  you,  nor  your  wives  nor 
children."     Having  said  this,  he  went  out. 

Then  the  old  man  took  his  pipe  and  smoked  and  prayed, 
1  The  "  Chinook."  2  Unborn  buffalo  calves. 


■^ 


ORIGIN    OF    THE    I-KUN-UH-KAH-TSl 


109 


I 


, 


saying  :  "  Hear  now,  Sun  !  Listen,  Above  People.  Listen, 
Under  Water  People.  Now  you  have  taken  pity.  Now 
you  have  given  us  food.  We  are  going  to  those  strange 
ones,  who  walk  through  water  with  dry  moccasins.  Protect 
us  among  those  to-be-feared  people.  Let  us  survive.  Man, 
woman,  child,  give  us  long  Hfe ;  give  us  long  Ufe  !" 

Once  more  the  smell  of  roasting  meat.  The  children 
played.  They  talked  and  laughed  who  had  so  long  been 
silent.    They  ate  plenty  and  lay  down  and  slept. 

Early  in  the  morning,  as  soon  as  the  sun  rose,  they  took 
down  their  lodge,  packed  up,  and  started  for  the  strange 
camp.  They  found  it  was  a  wonderful  place.  There  by 
the  pis'kun,  and  far  up  and  down  the  valley  were  the  lodges 
of  meat-eaters.  They  could  not  see  them  all,  but  close  by 
they  saw  the  lodges  of  the  Bear  band,  the  Fox  band,  and  the 
Badger  band.  The  father  of  the  young  man  who  had  given 
them  meat  was  chief  of  the  Wolf  band,  and  by  that  band 
they  pitched  their  lodge.  Ah  !  That  was  a  happy  place. 
Food  there  was  plenty.  All  day  people  shouted  out  for 
feasts,  and  everywhere  was  heard  the  sound  of  drums  and 
song  and  dancing. 

The  new-comers  went  to  the  pis'kun  for  meat,  and  one  of 
the  children  found  an  arrow  lying  on  the  ground.  It  was  a 
beautiful  arrow,  the  stone  point  long  and  sharp,  the  shaft  round 
and  straight.  All  around  the  people  were  busy  ;  no  one  was 
looking.  The  boy  picked  up  the  arrow  and  hid  it  under 
his  robe.  Then  there  was  a  fearful  noise.  All  the  animals 
howled  and  growled,  and  ran  toward  him.  But  the  chief 
Wolf  said  :  "  Hold  !  We  will  let  him  go  this  time  ;  for  he  is 
young  yet,  and  not  of  good  sense."     So  they  let  him  go. 

When  night  came,  some  one  shouted  out  for  a  feast,  say- 
ing :  "  JVo'-ka-/ii/ .'  Wo'-ka-hit!  Mah-kwe'-i-ke-tum-ok- 
ah-wah-hit.  Ke-tiik'-ka-piik'-si-pim."  ("Listen!  Listen! 
Wolf,  you  are  to  feast.     Enter  with  your  friend.")     "We 


no 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


I  I 


1 11^ 


t 


are  asked,"  said  the  chief  Wolf  to  his  new  friend,  and  to- 
gether they  went  to  the  lodge. 

Within,  the  fire  burned  brightly,  and  many  men  were 
already  there,  the  old  and  wise  of  the  Raven  band.  Hang- 
ing behind  the  seats  were  the  writings^  of  many  deeds. 
Food  was  placed  before  them,  —  pemmican  of  berries  and 
dried  back  fat ;  and  when  they  had  eaten,  a  pipe  was  lighted. 
Then  spoke  the  Raven  chief :  "  Now,  Wolf,  I  am  going  to 
give  our  new  friend  a  present.     What  say  you  ?  " 

"  It  is  as  you  say,"  replied  the  Wolf.  "  Our  new  friend 
will  be  glad." 

Then  the  Raven  chief  took  from  the  long  parfleche  sack  a 
slender  stick,  beautifully  dressed  with  many  colored  feathers  ; 
and  on  the  end  of  it  was  fastened  the  skin  of  a  raven,  head, 
wings,  feet,  and  all.  "We,"  he  said,  "are  the  Mas-to-pah!- 
ta-kiks  (Raven  carriers,  or  those  who  bear  the  Raven).  Of 
all  the  above  animals,  of  all  the  flyers,  where  is  one  so  smart? 
None.  The  Raven's  eyes  are  sharp.  His  wings  are  strong. 
He  is  a  great  hunter  and  never  hungry.  Far,  far  off  on  the 
prairie  he  sees  his  food,  and  deep  hidden  in  the  pines  it 
does  not  escape  his  eye.     Now  the  song  and  the  dance." 

When  he  had  finished  singing  and  dancing,  he  gave  the 
stick  to  the  man,  and  said  :  "  Take  it  with  you,  and  when 
you  have  returned  to  your  people,  you  shall  say  :  Now  there 
are  already  the  Bulls,  and  he  who  is  the  Raven  chief  says : 
'There  shall  be  more,  there  shall  be  the  I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi,  so 
that  the  people  may  survive,  and  of  them  shall  be  the  Raven 
carriers.'  You  will  call  a  council  of  the  chiefs  and  wise  old 
men,  and  they  will  choose  the  persons.  Teach  them  the 
song  and  the  dance,  and  give  them  the  medicine.  It  shall 
be  theirs  forever." 

Soon  they  heard  another  person  shouting  for  a  feast,  and, 
going,  they  entered  the  lodge  of  the  SM-o-pah  chief.    Here, 

1  That  is,  the  painting  on  cowskin  of  the  various  battles  and  adventures 
in  which  the  owner  of  the  lodge  had  taken  part. 


II 


i 


ORIGIN    OF    THE    I-KUN-UH'-KAH-TSI 


I  I  I 


too,  were  the  old  men  assembled.  After  they  had  eaten  of 
that  set  before  them,  the  chief  said  :  "Those  among  whom 
you  are  newly  arrived  are  generous.  They  do  not  look  at 
their  possessions,  but  give  to  the  stranger  and  pity  the  poor. 
The  Kit- fox  is  a  little  animal,  but  what  one  is  smarter? 
None,  His  hair  is  like  the  dead  prairie  grass.  His  eyes  are 
sharp,  his  feet  noiseless,  his  brain  cunning.  His  ears  receive 
the  far-off  sound.  Here  is  our  medicine,  take  it."  And  he 
gave  the  stick.  It  was  long,  crooked  at  one  end,  wound 
with  fur,  and  tied  here  and  there  to  it  were  eagle  feathers. 
At  the  end  was  a  fox's  skin.  Again  the  chief  said  :  "  Hear 
our  song.  Do  not  forget  it ;  and  the  dance,  too,  you  must 
remember.  When  you  get  home,  teach  them  to  the 
people." 

Again  they  heard  the  feast  shout,  and  he  who  called  was 
the  Bear  chief.  Now  when  they  had  smoked,  the  chief 
said  :  "  What  say  you,  friend  Wolf  ?  Shall  we  give  our  new 
friend  something?" 

"  As  you  say,"  repUed  the  Wolf.     "It  is  yours  to  give." 

Then  said  the  Bear  :  "  There  are  many  animals,  and  some 
of  them  are  powerful.  But  the  Bear  is  the  strongest  and 
bravest  of  all.  He  fears  nothing,  and  is  always  ready  to 
fight."  Then  he  put  on  a  necklace  of  bear  claws,  a  belt  of 
bear  fur,  and  around  his  head  a  band  of  the  fur ;  and  sang 
and  danced.  When  he  had  finished,  he  gave  them  to  the 
man,  saying  :  "  Teach  the  people  our  song  and  dance,  and 
give  them  this  medicine.     It  is  powerful." 

It  was  now  very  late.  The  Seven  Persons  had  arrived  at 
midnight,  yet  again  they  heard  the  feast  shout  from  the  far 
end  of  camp.  In  this  lodge  the  men  were  painted  with 
streaks  of  red  and  their  hair  was  all  brushed  to  one  side. 
After  the  feast  the  chief  said  :  "  We  are  different  from  all  the 
others  here.  We  are  called  the  Miit'-siks}  We  are  death. 
We  know  not  fear.     Even  if  our  enemies  are  in  number  like 

1  Brave,  courageous. 


II 


ItM 


112 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


the  grass,  we  do  not  turn  away,  but  fight  and  conquer. 
Bows  are  good  weapons.  Spears  are  better,  but  our  weapon 
is  the  knife."  Then  the  chief  sang  and  danced,  and  after- 
wards he  gave  the  Wolfs  friend  the  medicine.  It  was  a 
long  knife,  and  many  scalps  were  tied  on  the  handle. 
"This,"  he  said,  "is  for  the  I-kun-uh^-kah-tsir 

Once  more  they  were  called  to  a  feast  and  entered  the 
Badger  chiefs  lodge.  He  taught  the  man  the  Badger 
song  and  dance  and  gave  him  the  medicine.  It  was  a  large 
rattle,  ornamented  with  beaver  claws  and  bright  feathers. 
They  smoked  two  pipes  in  the  Badger's  lodge,  and  then  went 
home  and  slept. 

Early  next  day,  the  man  and  his  family  took  down  their 
lodge,  and  prepared  to  move  camp.  Many  women  came 
and  made  them  presents  of  dried  meat,  pemmican,  and 
berries.  They  were  given  so  much  they  could  not  take  it 
all  with  them.  It  was  many  days  before  they  joined  the 
main  camp,  for  the  people,  too,  had  moved  to  the  south  after 
buffalo.  As  soon  as  the  lodge  was  pitched,  the  man  called 
all  the  chiefs  to  come  and  feast,  and  he  told  them  all  he  had 
seen,  and  showed  them  the  medicines.  The  chiefs  chose 
certain  young  men  for  the  different  bands,  and  this  man 
taught  them  the  songs  and  dances,  and  gave  each  band 
their  medicine. 


i     *l 


U 


a 


ORIGIN   OF  THE  MEDICINE  PIPE 


■ 


Thunder  —  you  have  heard  him,  he  is  everywhere.  He 
roars  in  the  mountains,  he  shouts  far  out  on  the  prairie.  He 
strikes  the  high  rocks,  and  they  fall  to  pieces.  He  hits  a  tree, 
and  it  is  broken  in  slivers.  He  strikes  the  people,  and  they 
die.  He  is  bad.  He  does  not  like  the  towering  cliff,  the 
standing  tree,  or  living  man.  He  likes  to  strike  and  crush 
them  to  the  ground.  Yes  !  yes  !  Of  all  he  is  most  power- 
ful ;  he  is  the  one  most  strong.  But  I  have  not  told  you 
the  worst :  he  sometimes  steals  women. 

Long  ago,  almost  in  the  beginning,  a  man  and  his  wife 
were  sitting  in  their  lodge,  when  Thunder  came  and  struck 
them.  The  man  was  not  killed.  At  first  he  was  as  if  dead, 
but  after  a  while  he  lived  again,  and  rising  looked  about 
him.  His  wife  was  not  there.  "  Oh,  well,"  he  thought, 
"  she  has  gone  to  get  some  water  or  wood,"  and  he  sat  a 
while  ;  but  when  the  sun  had  under-disappeared,  he  went  out 
and  inquired  about  her  of  the  people.  No  one  had  seen 
her.  He  searched  throughout  the  camp,  but  did  not  find 
her.  Then  he  knew  that  Thunder  had  stolen  her,  and  he 
went  out  on  the  hills  alone  and  mourned. 

When  morning  came,  he  rose  and  wandered  far  away,  and 
he  asked  all  the  animals  he  met  if  they  knew  where  Thun- 
der lived.  They  laughed,  and  would  not  answer.  The  Wolf 
said  :  "  Do  you  think  we  would  seek  the  home  of  the  only 
one  we  fear?  He  is  our  only  danger.  From  all  others  we 
can  run  away  ;  but  from  him  there  is  no  running.  He  strikes, 
and  there  we  lie.     Turn  back  !  go  home  !     Do  not  look  for 

113 


■V 


114 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


\     i 


the  dwelling-place  of  that  dreadful  one."  But  the  man  kept 
on,  and  travelled  far  away.  Now  he  came  to  a  lodge,  —  a 
queer  lodge,  for  it  was  made  of  stone  ;  just  like  any  other 
lodge,  only  it  was  made  of  stone.  Here  lived  the  Raven 
chief.     The  man  entered. 

"  Welcome,  my  friend,"  said  the  chief  of  Ravens.  "  Sit 
down,  sit  down."     And  food  was  placed  before  him. 

Then,  when  he  had  finished  eating,  the  Raven  said,  "  Why 
have  you  come?" 

"Thunder  has  stolen  my  wife,"  replied  the  man.  "I  seek 
his  dwelling-place  that  I  may  find  her." 

"Would  you  dare  enter  the  lodge  of  that  dreadful  per- 
son?" asked  the  Raven.  "He  lives  close  by  here.  His 
lodge  is  of  stone,  like  this ;  and  hanging  there,  within,  are 
eyes,  —  the  eyes  of  those  he  has  killed  or  stolen.  He  has 
taken  out  their  eyes  and  hung  them  in  his  lodge.  Now,  then, 
dare  you  enter  there? " 

" No,"  replied  the  man.  "I  am  afraid.  What  man  could 
look  at  such  dreadful  things  and  live  ?  " 

"No  person  can,"  said  the  Raven.  "There  is  but  one 
old  Thunder  fears.  There  is  but  one  he  cannot  kill.  It  is  I, 
it  is  the  Ravens.  Now  I  will  give  you  medicine,  and  he 
shall  not  harm  you.  You  shall  enter  there,  and  seek  among 
those  eyes  your  wife's ;  and  if  you  find  them,  tell  that 
Thunder  why  you  came,  and  make  him  give  them  to  you. 
Here,  now,  is  a  raven's  wing.  Just  point  it  at  him,  and  he 
will  start  back  quick ;  but  if  that  fail,  take  this.  It  is  an 
arrow,  and  the  shaft  is  made  of  elk-horn.  Take  this,  I  say, 
and  shoot  it  through  the  lodge." 

"Why  make  a  fool  of  me?"  the  poor  man  asked.  "My 
heart  is  sad.  I  am  crying."  And  he  covered  his  head  with 
his  robe,  and  wept. 

"Oh,"  said  the  Raven,  "you  do  not  beheve  me.  Come 
out,  come  out,  and  I  will  make  you  believe."     When  they 


OKKIIN    OF    THK    MEDICINE    I'll'E. 


115 


Stood  outside,  the  Raven  asked,  "  Is  the  home  of  your 
people  far?" 

"A  great  distance,"  said  the  man. 

"Can  you  tell  how  many  days  you  have  travelled?" 

"  No,"  he  replied,  "my  heart  is  sad.  I  did  not  count  the 
days.     The  berries  have  grown  and  ripened  since  I  left." 

"Can  you  see  your  camp  from  here?"  asked  the  Raven. 

The  man  did  not  speak.  Then  the  Raven  rubbed  some 
medicine  on  his  eyes  and  said,  "  Look  !  "  The  man  looked, 
and  saw  the  camp.  It  was  close.  He  saw  the  people.  He 
saw  the  smoke  rising  from  the  lodges. 

"Now  you  will  believe,"  said  the  Raven.  "Take  now  the 
arrow  and  the  wing,  an<l  go  and  get  your  wife." 

So  the  man  took  these  things,  and  went  to  the  Thunder's 
lodge.  He  entered  and  sat  down  by  the  door-way.  The 
Thunder  sat  within  and  looked  at  him  with  awful  eyes.  But 
the  man  looked  above,  and  saw  those  many  pairs  of  eyes. 
Among  them  were  those  of  his  wife. 

"Why  have  you  come?"  said  the  Thunder  in  a  fearful 
voice. 

"  I  seek  my  wife,"  the  man  replied,  "whom  you  have  stolen. 
There  hang  her  eyes." 

"  No  man  can  enter  my  lodge  and  live,"  said  the  Thun- 
der; and  he  rose  to  strike  him.  Then  the  man  pointed  the 
raven  wing  at  the  Thunder,  and  he  fell  back  on  his  couch 
and  shivered.  But  he  soon  recovered,  and  rose  again.  Then 
the  man  fitted  the  elk-horn  arrow  to  his  bow,  and  shot  it 
through  the  lodge  of  rock  ;  right  through  that  lodge  of  rock 
it  pierced  a  jagged  hole,  and  let  the  sunlight  in. 

"  Hold,"  said  the  Thunder.  "  Stop  ;  you  are  the  stronger. 
Yours  the  great  medicine.  You  shall  have  your  wife.  Take 
down  her  eyes."  Then  the  man  cut  the  string  that  held 
them,  and  immediately  his  wife  stood  beside  him. 

"Now,"  said  the  Thunder,  "you  know  me.  I  am  of  great 
power.     I  live  here  in  summer,  but  when  winter  comes,  I  go 


ii6 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


far  south.  I  go  south  with  the  birds.  Here  is  my  pipe.  It 
iij  medicine.  Take  it,  and  keep  it.  Now,  when  I  first  come 
in  the  spring,  you  shall  fill  and  light  this  pipe,  and  you  shall 
pray  to  me,  you  and  the  people.  For  I  bring  the  rain  which 
makes  the  berries  large  and  ripe.  I  bring  the  rain  which 
makes  all  things  grow,  and  for  this  you  shall  pray  to  me,  you 
and  all  the  people." 

Thus  the  people  got   the   first  medicine  pipe.      It  was 
long  ago. 


IL 


THE   BEAVER   MEDICINE 


This  story  goes  back  many  years,  to  a  time  before  the 
Indians  went  to  war  against  each  other.  Then  there  was 
peace  among  all  the  tribes.  They  met,  and  did  not  kill 
each  other.  They  had  no  gims  and  they  had  no  horses. 
When  two  tribes  met,  the  head  chiefs  would  take  each  a  stick 
and  touch  each  other.  Each  had  counted  a  coup  on  the 
other,  and  they  then  went  back  to  their  camps.  It  was 
more  a  friendly  than  a  hostile  ceremony. 

Oftentimes,  when  a  party  of  youn^  men  had  gone  to  a 
strange  camp,  and  had  done  this  to  those  whom  they  had 
visited,  they  would  come  back  to  their  homes  and  would 
tell  the  girls  whom  they  loved  that  they  had  counted  a  coup 
on  this  certain  tribe  of  people.  After  the  return  of  such  a 
party,  the  young  women  would  have  a  dance.  Each  one 
would  wear  clothing  like  that  of  the  man  she  loved,  and  as 
she  danced,  she  would  count  a  coup,  saying  that  she  herself 
had  done  the  deed  which  her  young  lover  had  really  done. 
Such  was  the  custom  of  the  people. 

There  was  a  chief  in  a  camp  who  had  three  wives,  all 
very  pretty  women.  He  used  to  say  to  these  women, 
whenever  a  dance  was  called  :  "  Why  do  not  you  go  out  and 
dance  too?  Perhaps  you  have  some  one  in  the  camp  that 
you  love,  and  for  whom  you  would  like  to  count  a  coup.^^ 
Then  the  women  would  say,  "  No,  we  do  not  wish  to  join 
the  dance  ;  we  have  no  lovers." 

There  was  in  the  camp  a  poor  young  man,  whose  name 
was  Api-kiinni.     He  had  no  relations,  and  no  one  to  tan 

117 


Il8  STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 

robes  or  furs  for  him,  and  he  was  ahvays  badly  clad  and  in 
rags.  Whenever  he  got  some  clothing,  he  wore  it  as  long 
as  it  would  hold  together.  This  young  man  loved  the 
youngest  wife  of  the  chief,  and  she  loved  him.  But  her 
parents  were  not  rich,  and  they  could  not  give  her  to  Api- 
kunni,  and  when  the  chief  wanted  her  for  a  wife,  they  gave 
her  to  him.  Sometimes  Api-kiinni  and  this  girl  used  to 
meet  and  talk  together,  and  he  used  to  caution  her,  saying, 
"  Now  be  careful  that  you  do  not  tell  any  one  that  you  see 
me."  She  would  say,  "  No,  there  is  no  danger ;  I  will  not 
let  it  be  known." 

One  evening,  a  dance  was  called  for  the  young  women  to 
dance,  and  the  chief  said  to  his  wives :  "  Now,  women,  you 
had  better  go  to  this  dance.  If  any  of  you  have  persons 
whom  you  love,  you  might  as  well  go  and  dance  for  them." 
Two  of  them  said  :  "  No,  we  will  not  go.  There  is  no  one 
that  we  love."  But  the  third  said,  "Well,  I  think  I  will  go 
and  dance."  The  chief  said  to  her,  "  Well,  go  then  ;  your 
lover  will  surely  dress  you  up  for  the  dance." 

The  girl  went  to  where  Api-kiinni  was  living  in  an  old 
woman's  lodge,  very  poorly  furnished,  and  told  him  what 
she  was  going  to  do,  and  asked  him  to  dress  her  for  the 
dance.  He  said  to  her :  "  Oh,  you  have  wronged  me  by 
coming  here,  and  by  going  to  the  dance.  I  told  you  to 
keep  it  a  secret."  The  girl  said  :  "  Well,  never  mind  ;  no 
one  will  know  your  dress.  Fix  me  up,  and  I  will  go  and  join 
the  dance  anyway."  "  Why,"  said  Api-kiinni,  "  I  never  have 
been  to  war.  I  have  never  counted  any  coups.  You  will  go 
and  dance  and  will  have  nothing  to  say.  The  people  will 
laugh  at  you."  But  when  he  found  that  the  girl  wanted  to 
go,  he  painted  her  forehead  with  red  clay,  and  tied  a  goose  skin, 
which  he  had,  about  her  head,  and  lent  her  his  badly  tanned 
robe,  which  in  spots  was  hard  like  a  parfleche.  He  said  to 
her,  "  If  you  will  go  to  the  dance,  say,  when  it  comes  your 
turn  to  speak,  that  when  the  water  in  the  creeks  gets  warm, 


THE    BEAVER    MEDICINE 


119 


t 


you  are  going  to  war,  and  are  going  to  count  a  coup  on  some 
people." 

The  woman  went  to  the  dance,  and  joined  in  it.  All  the 
people  were  laughing  at  her  on  account  of  her  strange  dress, 
—  a  goose  skin  around  her  head,  and  a  badly  tanned  robe 
about  her.  The  people  in  the  dance  asked  her :  •"  Well, 
what  are  you  dancing  for?  What  can  you  tell?"  The 
woman  said,  "I  am  dancing  here  to-day,  and  when  the 
water  in  the  streams  gets  warm  next  spring,  I  am  going  to 
war ;  and  then  I  will  tell  you  what  I  have  done  to  any 
people."  The  chief  was  standing  present,  and  when  he 
learned  who  it  was  that  his  young  wife  loved,  he  was  much 
ashamed  and  went  to  his  lodge. 

When  the  dance  was  over,  this  young  woman  went  to  the 
lodge  of  the  poor  young  man  to  give  back  his  dress  to  him. 
Now,  while  she  had  been  gone,  Api-kiinni  had  been  thinking 
over  all  these  things,  and  he  was  very  much  ashamed.  He 
took  his  robe  and  his  goose  skin  and  went  away.  He  was 
so  ashamed  that  he  went  away  at  once,  travelling  off  over 
the  prairie,  not  caring  where  he  went,  and  crying  all  the 
time.  As  he  wandered  away,  he  came  to  a  lake,  and  at  the 
foot  of  this  lake  was  a  beaver  dam,  and  by  the  dam  a  beaver 
house.  He  walked  out  on  the  dam  and  on  to  the  beaver 
house.  There  he  stopped  and  sat  down,  and  in  his  shame 
cried  the  rest  of  the  day,  and  at  last  he  fell  asleep  on  the 
beaver  house. 

While  he  slept,  he  dreamed  that  a  beaver  came  to  him  — 
a  very  large  beaver  —  and  said  :  "  My  poor  young  man,  come 
into  my  house.  I  pity  you,  and  will  give  you  something 
that  will  help  you."  So  .\pi-kunni  got  up,  and  followed  the 
beaver  into  the  house.  When  he  was  in  the  house,  he  awoke, 
and  saw  sitting  opposite  him  a  large  white  beaver,  almost  as 
big  as  a  man.  He  thought  to  himself,  "  This  must  be  the 
chief  of  all  the  beavers,  white  because  very  old."  The 
beaver  was  singing  a  song.     It  was  a  very  strange  song,  and 


120 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


he  sang  it  a  long  time.  Then  he  said  to  Api-kunni,  "  My 
son,  why  are  you  mourning?"  and  the  young  man  told 
him  everything  that  had  happened,  and  how  he  had  been 
shamed.  Then  the  beaver  said  :  "  My  son,  stay  here  this 
winter  with  me.  I  will  provide  for  you.  When  the  time 
comes,  and  you  have  learned  our  songs  and  our  ways,  I  will 
let  you  go.  For  a  time  make  this  your  home."  So  Api- 
kunni  stayed  there  with  the  beaver,  and  the  beaver  taught 
him  many  strange  things.     All  this  happened  in  the  fall. 

Now  the  chief  in  the  camp  missed  this  poor  young  man, 

and  he  asked  the  people  where  he  had  gone.     No  one 

knew.     They  said  that  the  last  that  had  been  seen  of  him 

'he  was  travelling  toward  the  lake  where  the  beaver  dam 

was. 

Api-kunni  had  a  friend,  another  poor  young  man  named 
Wolf  Tail,  and  after  a  while,  Wolf  Tail  started  out  to  look 
for  his  friend.  He  went  toward  this  lake,  looking  every- 
where, and  calling  out  his  name.  When  he  came  to  the 
beaver  house,  he  kicked  on  the  top  and  called,  "  Oh,  my 
brother,  are  you  here?"  Api-kunni  answered  him,  and 
said  :  "  Yes,  I  am  here.  I  was  brought  in  while  I  was  asleep, 
and  I  cannot  give  you  the  secret  of  the  door,  for  I  do  not 
know  it  myself."  Wolf  Tail  said  to  him,  "  Brother,  when 
the  weather  gets  warm  a  party  is  going  to  start  from  camp 
to  war."  Api-kunni  said  :  "  Go  home  and  try  to  get  to- 
gether all  the  moccasins  you  can,  but  do  not  tell  them  that 
I  am  here.  I  am  ashamed  to  go  back  to  the  camp.  When 
the  party  starts,  come  this  way  and  bring  me  the  moccasins, 
and  we  two  will  start  from  here."  He  also  said  :  "  I  am 
very  thin.  The  beaver  food  here  does  not  agree  with  me. 
We  are  living  on  the  bark  of  willows."  Wolf  Tail  went 
back  to  the  camp  and  gathered  together  all  the  moccasins 
that  he  could,  as  he  had  been  asked  to  do. 

When  the  spring  came,  and  the  grass  began  to  start,  the 
war  party  set  out.     At  this  time  the  beaver  talked  to  Api- 


k 


THE    REAVER    MEDICINE 


121 


kunni  a  long  time,  an  1  told  him  many  things.  He  dived 
down  into  the  water,  and  brought  up  a  long  stick  of  aspen 
wood,  cut  off  from  it  a  piece  as  long  as  a  man's  arm, 
trimmed  the  twigs  off  it,  and  gave  it  to  the  young  man. 
"  Keep  this,"  the  beaver  said,  "  and  when  you  go  to  war 
take  it  with  you."  The  beaver  also  gave  him  a  little  sack 
of  medicine,  and  told  him  what  he  must  do. 

When  the  party  started  out,  Wolf  Tail  came  to  the  beaver 
house,  bringing  the  moccasins,  and  his  friend  came  out  of 
the  house.  They  started  in  the  direction  the  party  had 
taken  and  travelled  with  them,  but  off  to  one  side.  When 
they  stopped  at  night,  the  two  young  men  camped  by  them- 
selves. 

They  travelled  for  many  days,  until  they  came  to  Bow 
River,  and  found  that  it  was  very  high.  On  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  they  saw  the  lodges  of  a  camp.  In  this  camp  a 
man  was  making  a  speech,  and  Api-kiinni  said  to  his  friend, 
"  Oh,  my  brother,  I  am  going  to  kill  that  man  to-day,  so 
that  my  sweetheart  may  count  coup  on  him."  These  two 
were  at  a  little  distance  from  the  main  party,  above  them 
on  the  river.  The  people  in  the  camp  had  seen  the  Black- 
feet,  and  some  had  come  down  to  the  river.  When  Api-kunni 
had  said  this  to  Wolf  Tail,  he  took  his  clothes  off  and  began 
to  sing  the  song  the  beaver  had  taught  him.    This  was  the 

song :  — 

I  am  like  an  island, 

For  on  an  island  I  got  my  power. 

In  battle  I  live 

While  people  fall  away  from  mc. 

While  he  sang  this,  he  had  in  his  hand  the  stick  which  the 
beaver  had  given  him.     This  was  his  only  weapon. 

He  ran  to  the  bank,  jumped  in  and  dived,  and  came  up 
in  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  started  to  swim  across.  The 
rest  of  the  Blackfeet  saw  one  of  their  number  swimming 
across  the  river,  and  thev  said  to  each  other  :  "  Who  is  that? 


122 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


Why  did  not  some  one  stop  him  ?  "  While  he  was  swimming 
across,  the  man  who  had  been  making  the  speech  saw  him 
and  went  down  to  meet  him.  He  said  :  "  Who  can  this  man 
be,  swimming  across  the  river?  He  is  a  stranger.  I  will  go 
down  and  meet  him,  and  kill  him."  As  the  boy  was  getting 
close  to  the  shore,  the  man  waded  out  in  the  stream  up  to 
his  waist,  and  raised  his  knife  to  stab  the  swimmer.  When 
Api-kunni  got  near  him,  he  dived  under  the  water  and  came 
up  close  to  the  man,  and  thrust  the  beaver  stick  through  his 
body,  and  the  man  fell  down  in  the  water  and  died.  Api- 
kunni  caught  the  body,  and  dived  under  the  water  with  it, 
and  came  up  on  the  other  side  where  he  had  left  his  friend. 
Then  all  the  Blackfeet  set  up  the  war  whoop,  for  they  were 
glad,  and  they  could  hear  a  great  crying  in  the  camp.  The 
people  there  were  sorry  for  the  man  who  was  killed. 

People  in  those  days  never  killed  one  another,  and  this 
was  the  first  man  ever  killed  in  war. 

They  dragged  the  man  up  on  the  bank,  and  Api-kunni 
said  to  his  brother,  "  Cut  off  those  long  hairs  on  the  head." 
The  young  man  did  as  he  was  told.  He  scalped  him  and 
counted  coup  on  him  ;  and  from  that  time  forth,  people, 
when  they  went  to  war,  killed  one  another  and  scalped  the 
dead  enemy,  as  this  poor  young  man  had  done.  Two 
others  of  the  main  party  came  to  the  place,  and  counted 
coup  on  the  dead  body,  making  four  who  had  counted  coup. 
From  there,  the  whole  party  turned  about  and  went  back  to 
the  village  whence  they  had  come. 

When  they  came  in  sight  of  the  lodges,  they  sat  down  in 
a  row  facing  the  camp.  The  man  who  had  killed  the  enemy 
was  sitting  far  in  front  of  the  others.  Behind  him  sat  his 
friend,  and  behind  Wolf  Tail,  sat  the  two  who  had  counted 
coup  on  the  body.  So  these  four  were  strung  out  in  front  of 
the  others.  The  chief  of  the  camp  was  told  that  some 
people  were  sitting  on  a  hill  near  by,  and  when  he  had  gone 
out  and  looked,  he  said  :  "  There  is  some  one  sitting  way  in 


IS 


h, 


THE    KEAVER    MEDICINE 


123 


front.  Let  somebody  go  out  and  see  about  it."  A  young 
man  ran  out  to  where  he  could  see,  and  when  he  had  looked, 
he  ran  back  and  said  to  the  chief,  "  Why,  that  man  in  front 
is  the  poor  young  man." 

The  old  chief  looked  around,  and  said  :  "  Where  is  that 
young  woman,  my  wife?  Go  and  find  her."  They  went  to 
look  for  her,  and  found  her  out  gathering  rosebuds,  for 
while  the  young  man  whom  she  loved  was  away,  she  used  to 
go  out  and  gather  rosebuds  and  dry  them  for  him.  When 
they  found  her,  she  had  her  bosom  full  of  them.  When  she 
came  to  the  lodge,  the  chief  said  to  her  :  "  There  is  the  man 
you  love,  who  has  come.  Go  and  meet  him."  She  made 
ready  quickly  and  ran  out  and  met  him.  He  said  :  "Give 
her  that  hair  of  the  dead  man.  Here  is  his  knife.  There 
is  the  coat  he  had  on,  when  I  killed  him.  Take  these  things 
back  to  the  camp,  and  tell  the  people  who  made  fun  of  you 
that  this  is  what  you  promised  them  at  the  time  of  that 
dance." 

The  whole  party  then  got  up  and  walked  to  the  camp. 
The  woman  took  the  scalp,  knife  and  coat  to  the  lodge,  and 
gave  them  to  her  husband.  The  chief  invited  Api-kiinni  to 
come  to  his  lodge  to  visit  him.  He  said  :  "  I  see  that  you 
have  been  to  war,  and  that  you  have  done  more  than  any  of 
us  have  ever  done.  This  is  a  reason  why  you  should  be  a 
chief.  Now  take  my  lodge  and  this  woman,  and  live  here. 
Take  my  place  and  rule  these  people.  My  two  wives  will 
be  your  servants."  When  Api-kunni  heard  this,  and  saw 
the  young  woman  sitting  there  in  the  lodge,  he  could  not 
speak.  Something  seemed  to  rise  up  in  his  throat  and 
choke  him. 

So  this  young  man  lived  in  the  camp  and  was  known  as 
their  chief. 

After  a  time,  he  called  his  people  together  in  council  and 
told  them  of  the  strange  things  the  beaver  had  taught  him, 
and  the  power  that  the  beaver  had  given  him.     He  said : 


124 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT   TIMES 


"  This  will  be  a  benefit  to  us  while  we  are  a  people  now, 
and  afterward  it  will  be  handed  down  to  our  children,  and 
if  we  follow  the  words  of  the  beaver  we  will  be  lucky.  This 
seed  the  beaver  gave  me,  and  told  me  to  plant  it  every  year. 
When  we  ask  help  from  the  beaver,  we  will  smoke  this 
plant." 

This  plant  was  the  Indian  tobacco,  and  it  is  from  the 
beaver  that  the  Blackfeet  got  it.  Many  strange  things  were 
taught  this  man  by  the  beaver,  which  were  handed  down  and 
are  followed  till  to-day. 


I 


I    i 


THE   BUFFALO    ROCK 


A  SMALL  Stone,  which  is  usually  a  fossil  shell  of  some  kind, 
is  known  by  the  Blackfeet  as  I-nis'-kim,  the  buffalo  stone. 
This  object  is  strong  medicine,  and,  as  indicated  in  some  of 
these  stories,  gives  its  possessor  great  power  with  buffalo. 
The  stone  is  found  on  the  prairie,  and  the  person  who 
succeeds  in  obtaining  one  is  regarded  as  very  fortunate. 
Sometimes  a  man,  who  is  riding  along  on  the  prairie,  will 
hear  a  peculiar  faint  chirp,  such  as  a  little  bird  might  utter. 
The  sound  he  knows  is  made  by  a  buffalo  rock.  He  stops 
and  searches  on  the  ground  for  the  rock,  and  if  he  cannot 
find  it,  marks  the  place  and  very  likely  returns  next  day, 
either  alone  or  with  others  from  the  camp,  to  look  for  it 
again.  If  it  is  found,  there  is  great  rejoicing.  How  the 
first  buffalo  rock  was  obtained,  and  its  power  made  known, 
is  told  in  the  following  story. 

Long  ago,  in  the  winter  time,  the  buffalo  suddenly  disap- 
peared. The  snow  was  so  deep  that  the  people  could  not 
move  in  search  of  them,  for  in  those  days  they  had  no 
horses.  So  the  hunters  killed  deer,  elk,  and  other  small 
game  along  the  river  bottoms,  and  when  these  were  all 
killed  off  or  driven  away,  the  people  began  to  starve. 

One  day,  a  young  married  man  killed  a  jack-rabbit.  He 
was  so  hungry  that  he  ran  home  as  fast  as  he  could,  and 
told  one  of  his  wives  to  hurry  and  get  some  water  to  cook 
it.  While  the  young  woman  was  going  along  the  path  to 
the  river,  she  heard  a  beautiful  song.  It  sounded  close  by, 
but  she  looked  all  around  and  could  see  no  one. 

125 


126  STORIES    OF    AN'CIEXT    TIMES 

The  song  seemed  to  come  from  a  cotton-wood  tree  near 
the  path.  Looking  closely  at  this  tree  she  saw  a  cjueer  rock 
jammed  in  a  fork,  where  the  tree  was  split,  and  with  it  a 
few  hairs  from  a  buffalo,  which  had  rubbed  there.  The 
woman  was  frightened  and  dared  not  pass  the  tree.  Pretty 
soon  the  singing  stopped,  and  the  I-nis'-kim  [buffalo  rock] 
spoke  to  the  woman  and  said:  "Take  me  to  your  lodge, 
and  when  it  is  dark,  call  in  the  people  and  teach  them 
the  song  you  have  just  heard.  Pray,  too,  that  you  may  not 
starve,  and  that  the  buffiilo  may  come  back.  Do  this,  and 
when  day  comes,  your  hearts  will  be  glad." 

The  woman  went  on  and  got  some  water,  and  when  she 
came  back,  took  the  rock  and  gave  it  to  her  husband, 
telling  him  about  the  song  and  what  the  rock  had  said.  As 
soon  as  it  was  dark,  the  man  called  the  chiefs  and  old  men 
to  his  lodge,  and  his  wife  taught  them  this  song.  They 
prayed,  too,  as  the  rock  had  said  should  be  done.  Before 
long,  they  heard  a  noise  far  off.  It  was  the  tramp  of  a  great 
herd  of  buffalo  coming.  Then  they  knew  that  the  rock 
was  very  powerful,  and,  ever  since  that,  the  people  have 
taken  care  of  it  and  prayed  to  it. 

[XoTE. —  I-nis'-kims  are  usually  small  Ammonites,  or  sections  of  liaculites, 
or  soinetimes  merely  oddly  shaped  nodules  of  flint.  It  is  said  of  them  that  if 
an  I-nis'-kim  is  wrapped  up  and  left  undisturbed  for  a  long  time,  it  will  have 
young  ones ;  two  small  stones  similar  in  shape  to  the  original  one  will  be 
found  in  the  package  with  it.] 


W- 


ORIGIN    OF   THE   WORM    PIPE 

There  was  once  a  man  who  was  very  fond  of  his  wife. 
After  they  had  been  married  for  some  time  they  had  a  child, 
a  boy.  After  that,  the  woman  got  sick,  and  did  not  get 
well.  The  young  man  did  not  wish  to  take  a  second  woman. 
He  loved  his  wife  so  much.  The  woman  grew  worse  and 
worse.  I^octoring  did  not  seem  to  do  her  any  good.  At 
last  she  died.  The  man  used  to  take  his  baby  on  his  back 
and  travel  out,  walking  over  the  hills  crying.  He  kept  away 
from  the  camp.  After  some  time,  he  said  to  the  little  child  : 
"  My  little  boy,  you  will  have  to  go  and  live  with  your 
grandmother.  I  am  going  to  try  and  find  your  mother,  and 
bring  her  back."  He  took  the  baby  to  his  mother's  lodge, 
and  asked  her  to  take  care  of  it,  and  left  it  with  her.  Then 
he  started  off,  not  knowing  where  he  was  going  nor  what 
he  was  going  to  do. 

He  travelled  toward  the  Sand  Hills.  The  fourth  night  out 
he  had  a  dream.  He  dreamed  that  he  went  into  a  little 
lodge,  in  which  lived  an  old  woman.  This  old  woman  said 
to  him,  "Why  are  you  here,  my  son?"  He  said:  "I  am 
mourning  day  and  night,  crying  all  the  while.  My  little  son, 
who  is  the  only  one  left  me,  also  mourns."  "Well,"  said 
the  old  woman,  "for  whom  are  you  mourning?"  He 
said  :  "  I  am  mourning  for  my  wife.  She  died  some  time 
ago.  I  am  looking  for  her."  "Oh  !"  said  the  old  woman, 
"  I  saw  her.  She  passed  this  way.  I  myself  am  not  power- 
ful medicine,  but  over  by  that  far  butte  lives  another  old 
woman.     Go  to  her,  and  she  will  give  you  power  to  enable 

127 


, 


^ 


il:! 


'I 


128 


STORIKS    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


you  to  continue  your  journey.  You  could  not  go  there  by 
yourself  without  help.  Beyond  the  next  butte  from  her 
lodge,  you  will  find  the  camp  of  the  ghosts." 

The  next  morning  he  awoke  and  went  on  to  the  next 
butte.  It  took  him  a  long  day  to  get  there,  but  he  found 
no  lodge  there,  so  he  lay  down  and  went  to  sleep.  Again 
he  dreamed.  In  his  dream,  he  saw  a  little  lodge,  and  an 
old  woman  came  to  the  door-way  and  called  him.  He  went 
in,  and  she  said  to  him  :  "  My  son,  you  are  very  poor.  I 
know  why  you  have  come  this  way.  You  are  seeking  your 
wife,  who  is  now  in  the  ghost  country.  It  is  a  very  hard 
thing  for  you  to  get  there.  You  may  not  be  able  to  get 
your  wife  back,  but  I  have  great  power,  and  I  will  do  all  I 
can  for  you.  If  you  do  exactly  as  I  tell  you,  you  may  suc- 
ceed." She  then  spoke  to  him  with  wise  words,  telling  him 
what  he  should  do.  Also  she  gave  him  a  bundle  of  medi- 
cine, which  would  help  him  on  his  journey. 

Then  she  said  :  "  You  stay  here  for  a  while,  and  I  will  go 
over  there  [to  the  ghosts'  camp],  and  try  to  bring  some  of 
your  relations  ;  and  if  I  am  able  to  bring  them  back,  you  may 
return  with  them,  but  on  the  way  you  must  shut  your  eyes. 
If  you  should  open  them  and  look  about  you,  you  would 
die.  Then  you  would  never  come  back.  When  you  get  to 
the  camp,  you  will  pass  by  a  big  lodge,  and  they  will  say  to 
you,  'Where  are  you  going,  and  who  told  you  to  come 
here?'  You  will  reply,  'My  grandmother,  who  is  stand- 
ing out  here  with  me,  told  me  to  come.'  They  will  try  to 
scare  you.  They  will  make  fearful  noises,  and  you  will  see 
strange  and  terrible  things ;  but  do  not  be  afraid." 

Then  the  old  woman  went  away,  and  after  a  time  came  back 
with  one  of  the  man's  relations.  He  went  with  this  relation 
to  the  ghosts'  camp.  When  they  came  to  the  big  lodge,  some 
one  called  out  and  asked  the  man  what  he  was  doing,  and 
he  answered  as  the  old  woman  had  told  him  to  do.  As  he 
passed  on  through  the  camp,  the  ghosts  tried  to  scare  him 


I 


ORIGIN    OF    THE    WORM    PIPE 


129 


with  all  kinds  of  fearful  sights  and  sounds,  but  he  kept  up  a 
brave  heart. 

He  came  to  another  lodge,  and  the  man  wlio  cnvned  it 
came  out,  and  asked  him  where  he  was  going.  He  said  : 
"  I  am  looking  for  my  dead  wife.  I  mourn  for  her  so  much 
that  I  cannot  rest.  My  little  boy,  too,  keeps  crying  for  his 
mother.  They  have  offered  to  give  me  other  wives,  but  I 
do  not  want  them.  I  want  the  one  for  whom  I  am  search- 
ing." 

The  ghost  said  to  him  :  "  It  is  a  fearful  thing  that  you 
have  come  here.  It  is  very  likely  that  you  will  never  go 
away.  There  never  was  a  person  here  before."  The  ghost 
asked  him  to  come  into  the  lodge,  and  he  went. 

Now  this  chief  ghost  said  to  him  :  "  You  will  stay  here  four 
nights,  and  you  will  see  your  wife  ;  but  you  must  be  very 
careful  or  you  will  never  go  back.     You  will  die  right  here." 

Then  the  chief  went  outside  and  called  out  for  a  feast, 
inviting  this  man's  father-in-law  and  other  relations,  who 
were  in  the  camp,  saying,  "  Your  son-in-law  invites  you  to 
a  feast,"  as  if  to  say  that  their  son-in-law  was  dead,  and 
had  become  a  ghost,  and  had  arrived  at  the  ghost  camp. 

Now  when  these  invited  people,  the  relations  and  some  of 
the  principal  men  of  the  camp,  had  reached  the  lodge,  they 
did  not  like  to  go  in.  They  called  out,  "  There  is  a  per- 
son here."  It  seems  as  if  there  was  something  about  him 
that  they  could  not  bear  the  smell  of.  The  ghost  chief 
burned  sweet  pine  in  the  fire,  which  took  away  this  smell, 
and  the  people  came  in  and  sat  down.  Then  the  host  said 
to  them  :  "  Now  pity  this  son-in-law  of  yours.  He  is  seek- 
ing his  wife.  Neither  the  great  distance  nor  the  fearful 
sights  that  he  has  seen  here  have  weakened  his  heart.  You 
can  see  for  your  Ives  he  is  tender-hearted.  He  not  only 
mourns  for  his  w.e,  but  mourns  because  his  little  boy  is  now 
alone  with  no  mother ;  so  pity  him  and  give  him  back  his 
wife." 


H 


wm 


130  STORIES    OF    ANCIENT   TIMES 

The  ghosts  consulted  among  themselves,  and  one  said 
to  the  person,  "  Yes,  you  will  stay  here  four  nights ;  then 
we  will  give  you  a  medicine  pipe,  the  Worm  Pipe,  and 
we  will  give  you  back  your  wife,  and  you  may  return  to  your 
home." 

Now,  after  the  third  night,  the  chief  ghost  called  together 
all  the  people,  and  they  came,  the  man's  wife  with  them.  One 
of  them  came  beating  a  drum  ;  and  following  him  was  another 
ghost,  who  carried  the  Worm  Pipe,  which  they  gave  to  him. 

Then  said  the  chief  ghost :  "  Now,  be  very  careful.  To- 
morrow you  and  your  wife  will  start  on  your  homeward 
journey.  Your  wife  will  carry  the  medicine  pipe,  and  some 
of  your  relations  are  going  along  with  you  for  four  days. 
During  this  time,  you  must  not  open  your  eyes,  or  you  will 
return  here  and  be  a  ghost  forever.  You  see  that  your  wife 
is  not  now  a  person ;  but  in  the  middle  of  the  fourth  day  . 
you  will  be  told  to  look,  and  when  you  have  opened  your 
eyes,  you  will  see  that  your  wife  has  become  a  person,  and 
that  your  ghost  relations  have  disappeared." 

His  father-in-law  spoke  to  him  before  he  went  away,  and 
said  :  "  When  you  get  near  home,  you  must  not  go  at  once 
into  the  camp.  Let  some  of  your  relations  know  that  you 
have  arrived,  and  ask  them  to  build  a  sweat  house  for  yovi. 
Go  into  this  sweat  house  and  wash  your  body  thoroughly, 
leaving  no  part  of  it,  however  small,  uncleansed ;  for  if  you 
do  you  will  be  nothing  [will  die].  There  is  something 
about  us  ghosts  difficult  to  remove.  It  is  only  by  a  thorough 
sweat  that  you  can  remove  it.  Take  care,  now,  that  you  do 
as  I  tell  you.  Do  not  whip  your  wife,  nor  strike  her  with  a 
knife,  nor  hit  her  with  fire  ;  for  if  you  do,  she  will  vanish  be- 
fore your  eyes  and  return  to  the  Sand  Hills." 

Now  they  left  the  ghost  country  to  go  home,  and  on  the 
fourth  day,  the  wife  said  to  her  husband,  "  Open  your 
eyes."  He  looked  about  him  and  saw  that  those  who  had 
been  with  them  had  vanished,  but  he  found  that  they  were 


i 


L 


'^»WB«((piJI,i,.l«"PU  Jl" 


\ 


ORIGIN    OF    THE    WORM    PIPE  I3I 

Standing  in  front  of  the  old  woman's  lodge  by  the  butte. 
She  came  out  and  said  :  "  Here,  give  me  back  those  myste- 
rious medicines  of  mine,  which  enabled  you  to  accomplish 
your  purpose."  He  returned  them  to  her,  and  became 
then  fully  a  person  once  more. 

Now,  when  they  drew  near  to  the  camp,  the  woman  went 
on  ahead,  and  sat  down  on  a  butte.  Then  some  curious 
persons  came  out  to  see  who  it  might  be.  As  they  ap- 
proached, the  woman  called  out  to  them  :  '  Do  not  come 
any  nearer.  CIo  tell  my  mother  and  my  relations  to  put  up 
a  lodge  for  us,  a  little  way  from  camp,  and  to  build  a  sweat 
house  near  by  it."  When  this  had  been  done,  the  man  and 
his  wife  went  in  and  took  a  thorough  sweat,  and  then  they 
went  into  the  lodge,  and  burned  sweet  grass  and  purified 
their  clothing  and  the  Worm  Pipe  ;  and  then  their  relations 
and  friends  came  in  to  see  them.  The  man  told  them 
where  he  had  been,  and  how  he  had  managed  to  get  back 
his  wife,  and  that  the  pipe  hanging  over  the  door-way  was  a 
medicine  pipe,  the  Worm  Pipe,  presented  to  him  by  his 
ghost  father-in-law.  That  is  how  the  people  came  to 
possess  the  Worm  Pipe.  This  pipe  belongs  to  that  band  of 
the  Piegans  known  as  Esk^-s'ui-i-tup'piks,  the  Worm  People. 

Not  long  after  this,  in  the  night,  this  man  told  his  wife 
to  do  something  ;  and  when  she  did  not  begin  at  once,  he 
l)icked  up  a  brand  from  the  fire,  not  that  he  intended  to 
strike  her  with  it,  but  he  made  as  if  he  would  hit  her,  when 
all  at  once  she  vanished,  and  was  never  seen  again. 


* 


THE   GHOSTS'   BUFFALO 

A  LONG  time  ago  there  were  four  Blackfeet,  who  went  to 
war  against  the  Crees.  They  travelled  a  long  way,  and  at 
last  their  horses  gave  out,  and  they  started  back  toward  their 
homes.  As  they  were  going  along  they  came  to  the  Sand 
Hills ;  and  while  they  were  passing  through  them,  they  saw  in 
the  sand  a  fresh  travois  trail,  where  people  had  been  travel- 
ling. 

One  of  the  men  said  :  "  Let  us  follow  this  trail  until 
we  come  up  with  some  of  our  people.  Then  we  will  camp 
with  them."  They  followed  the  trail  for  a  long  way,  and  at 
length  one  of  the  Blackfeet,  named  E-kus'-kini,  — a  very 
powerful  person,  — said  to  the  others:  "Why  fellow  this 
longer?  It  is  just  nothing."  The  others  said:  "Not  so. 
These  are  our  people.  We  will  go  on  and  camp  with  them." 
They  went  on,  and  toward  evening,  one  of  them  found  a 
stone  maul  and  a  dog  travois.  He  said  :  "  Look  at  these 
things.  I  know  this  maul  and  this  travois.  They  belonged 
to  my  mother,  who  died.  They  were  buried  with  her. 
This  is  strange."  He  took  the  things.  When  night  over- 
took the  men,  they  camped. 

Early  in  the  morning,  they  heard,  all  about  them,  sounds 
as  if  a  camp  of  people  were  there.  They  heard  a  young 
man  shouting  a  sort  of  war  cry,  as  young  men  do ;  women 
chopping  wood  ;  a  man  calling  for  a  feast,  asking  people  to 
come  to  his  lodge  and  smoke,  —  all  the  different  sounds  of 
the  camp.  They  looked  about,  but  could  see  nothing  ;  and 
then  they  were  frightened  and  covered  their  heads  with 
132 


THE    GHOSTS     BUFFALO 


133 


their  robes.  At  last  they  took  courage,  and  started  to  look 
around  and  see  what  they  could  learn  about  this  strange 
thing.  For  a  little  while  they  saw  nothing,  but  pretty  soon 
one  of  them  said  :  "  Look  over  there.  See  that  pis'kun. 
Let  us  go  over  and  look  at  it."  As  they  were  going  toward 
it,  one  of  them  picked  up  a  stone  pointed  arrow.  He  said  : 
"  Look  at  this.  It  belonged  to  my  father.  This  is  his 
place."  They  started  to  go  on  toward  the  pis'kun,  but 
suddenly  they  could  see  no  pis'kun.  It  had  disappeared  all 
at  once. 

A  little  while  after  this,  one  of  them  spoke  up,  and  said  : 
"  Look  over  there.  There  is  my  father  running  buffalo. 
There  !  he  has  killed.  Let  us  go  over  to  him."  They  all 
looked  where  this  man  pointed,  and  they  could  see  a  person 
on  a  white  horse,  running  buffalo.  While  they  were  looking, 
the  person  killed  the  buffalo,  and  got  off  his  horse  to  butcher 
it.  They  started  to  go  over  toward  him,  and  saw  him  at 
work  butchering,  and  saw  him  turn  the  buffalo  over  on  its 
back ;  but  before  they  got  to  the  place  where  he  was,  the 
person  got  on  his  horse  and  rode  off,  and  when  they  got  to 
where  he  had  been  skinning  the  buffalo,  they  saw  lying  on 
the  ground  only  a  dead  mouse.  There  was  no  buffalo 
there.  By  the  side  of  the  mouse  was  a  buffalo  chip,  and 
lying  on  it  was  an  arrow  painted  red.  The  man  said  : 
"That  is  my  father's  arrow.  That  is  the  way  he  painted 
them."  He  took  it  up  in  his  hands  ;  and  when  he  held  it  in 
his  hands,  he  saw  that  it  was  not  an  arrow  but  a  blade  of 
spear  grass.  Then  he  laid  it  down,  and  it  was  an  arrow 
again. 

Another  Blackfoot  found  a  buffalo  rock,  I-nis'-kim. 

Some  time  after  this,  the  men  got  home  to  their  camp. 
The  man  who  had  taken  the  maul  and  the  dog  travois,  when 
he  got  home  and  smelled  the  smoke  from  the  fire,  died,  and 
so  did  his  horse.  It  seems  that  the  shadow  of  the  person  who 
owned  the  things  was  angry  at  him  and  followed  him  home. 


134 


STORIES    OF    ANCIENT    TIMES 


Two  Others  of  these  Blackfeet  have  since  died,  killed  in  war  ; 
but  E-kus'-kini  is  alive  yet.  He  took  a  stone  and  an  iron 
arrow  point  that  had  belonged  to  his  father,  and  always  carried 
them  about  with  him.  That  is  why  he  has  lived  so  long. 
The  man  who  took  the  stone  arrow  point  found  near  the 
pis'kun,  which  had  belonged  to  his  father,  took  it  home  with 
him.  This  was  his  medicine.  Alter  that  he  was  badly 
wounded  in  two  fights,  but  he  was  not  killed  ;  he  got  well. 

The  one  who  took  the  buffalo  rock,  I-nis'-kim,  it  afterward 
made  strong  to  call  the  buffalo  into  the  pis'kun.  He  would 
take  the  rock  and  put  it  in  his  lodge  close  to  the  fire,  where 
he  could  look  at  it,  and  would  pray  over  it  and  make  medi- 
cine. Sometimes  he  would  ask  for  a  hundred  buffalo  to 
jump  into  the  pis'kun,  and  the  next  day  a  hundred  would 
jump  in.     He  was  powerful. 


f  f' 


,%T«-'^"-\  -  r  ^ 


STORIES  OF  OLD  MAN 


If 


t 


I  iv 


1 


\ 


i 


THE   BLACKFOOT   GENESIS 


I 


i 


All  animals  of  the  Plains  at  one  time  heard  and  knew 
him,  and  all  birds  of  the  air  heard  and  knew  him.  All  things 
that  he  had  made  understood  him,  when  he  spoke  to  them, 
—  the  birds,  the  animals,  and  the  people. 

Old  Man  was  travelling  about,  south  of  here,  making  the 
people.     He  came  from  the  south,  travelling  north,  making 
animals  and  birds  as  he  passed  along.     He  made  the  moun- 
tains, prairies,  timber,  and  brush  first.     So  he  went  along, 
travelling  northward,  making  things   as   he   went,   putting 
rivers  here  and  there,  and  falls  on  them,  putting  red  paint 
here  and  there  in  the  ground,  —fixing  up  the  world  as  we 
see  it  to-day.     He  made  the  Milk  River  (the  Teton)  and 
crossed  it,  and,  being  tired,  went  up  on  a  little  hill  and  lay" 
down  to  rest.     As  he  lay  on  his  back,  stretched  out  on  the 
ground,  with  arms  extended,  he  marked  himself  out  with 
stones,  —  the  shape  of  his  body,  head,  legs,  arms,  and  every- 
thing.    There  you  can  see  those  rocks  to-day.     After  he 
had  rested,  he  went  on  northward,  and  stumbled  over  a 
knoll  and  fell  down  on  his  knees.     Then  he  said,  "  You  are 
a  bad  thing  to  be  stumbling  against "  ;  so  he  raised  up  two 
large  buttes  there,  and  named  them  the  Knees,  and  they  are 
called  so  to  this  day.     He  went  on  further  north,  and  with 
some  of  the  rocks  he  carried  with  him  he  built  the  Sweet 
Grass  Hills. 

Old  Man  covered  the  plains  with  grass  for  the  animals  to 
feed  on.  He  marked  off  a  piece  of  ground,  and  in  it  he 
made  to  grow  all  kinds  of  roots  and  berries,  —  camas,  wild  car- 

137 


11 


138  STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 

rots,  wild  turnips,  sweet-root,  l)itter-root,  sarvis  berries,  bull 
berries,  cherries,  plums,  and  rosebuds.  He  put  trees  in  the 
ground.  He  put  all  kinds  of  animals  on  the  ground. 
When  he  made  the  bighorn  with  its  big  head  and  horns,  he 
made  it  out  on  the  prairie.  It  did  not  seem  to  travel  easily 
on  the  prairie  ;  it  was  awkward  and  could  not  go  fast.  So 
he  took  it  by  one  of  its  horns,  and  led  it  up  into  the  moun- 
tains, and  turned  it  loose  ;  and  it  skipped  about  among  the 
rocks,  and  went  up  fearful  places  with  ease.  So  he  said, 
"  This  is  the  place  that  suits  you  ;  this  is  what  you  are  fitted 
for,  the  rocks  and  the  mountains."  While  he  was  in  the 
mountains,  he  made  the  antelope  out  of  dirt,  and  turned  it 
loose,  to  see  how  it  would  go.  It  ran  so  fast  that  it  fell  over 
some  rocks  and  hurt  itself.  He  saw  that  this  would  not  do, 
and  took  the  antelope  down  on  the  prairie,  and  turned  it 
loose;  and  it  ran  away  fast  and  gracefully,  and  he  said, 
"This  is  what  you  are  suited  to." 

One  day  Old  Man  determined  that  he  would  make  a 
woman  and  a  child ;  so  he  formed  them  both  —  the  woman 
and  the  child,  her  son  —  of  clay.  After  he  had  moulded  the 
clay  in  human  shape,  he  said  to  tlie  clay,  "You  must  be 
people,"  and  then  he  covered  it  up  and  left  it,  and  went 
away.  The  next  morning  he  went  to  the  place  and  took 
the  covering  off,  and  saw  that  the  clay  shapes  had  changed 
a  little.  The  second  morning  there  was  still  more  change, 
and  .the  third  still  more.  Tlie  fourth  morning  he  went  to 
the  place,  took  the  covering  off,  looked  at  the  images,  and 
told  them  to  rise  and  walk  ;  and  they  did  so.  They  walked 
down  to  the  river  with  their  Maker,  and  then  he  told  them 
that  his  name  was  Na'pi,  Old  Man, 

As  they  were  standing  by  the  river,  the  woman  said  to 
him,  "How  is  it?  will  we  always  live,  will  there  be  no  end 
to  it?  "  He  said  :  "  I  have  never  thought  of  that.  We  will 
have  to  decide  it.  T  will  take  this  buffalo  chip  and  throw  ii 
in  the  river.     If  it  floats,  when  people  die,  in  four  days  they 


II 


f 


I 

i 


u^ 


THE    BLACKFOOT    GENESIS 


139 


f 


1 
i 


will  become  alive  again ;  tliey  will  die  for  only  four  days. 
But  if  it  sinks,  there  will  be  an  end  to  them."  He  threw 
the  chip  into  the  river,  and  it  floated.  The  woman  turned 
and  picked  up  a  stone,  and  said :  '*  No,  I  will  throw  this 
stone  in  the  river ;  if  it  floats  we  will  always  live,  if  it  sinks 
people  must  die,  that  they  may  always  be  sorry  for  each 
other."  ^  The  woman  threw  the  stone  into  the  water,  and 
it  sank.  "There,"  said  Old  Man,  "you  have  chosen. 
There  will  be  an  end  to  them." 

It  was  not  many  nights  after,  that  the  woman's  child  died, 
and  she  cried  a  great  deal  for  it.  She  said  to  Old  Man : 
"  Let  us  change  this.  The  law  that  you  first  made,  let  that 
be  a  law."  He  said  :  "  Not  so.  What  is  made  law  must  be 
aw.  We  will  undo  nothing  that  we  have  done.  The  child 
is  dead,  but  it  cannot  be  changed.     People  will  have  to  die." 

That  is  how  we  came  to  be  people.  It  is  he  who  made 
us. 

The  first  people  were  poor  and  naked,  and  did  not  know 
how  to  get  a  living.  Old  Man  showed  them  the  roots  and 
berries,  and  told  them  that  they  could  eat  them ;  that  in  a 
certain  month  of  the  year  they  could  peel  the  bark  off"  some 
trees  and  eat  it,  that  it  was  good.  He  told  the  people  that 
the  animals  should  be  their  food,  and  gave  them  to  the 
people,  saying,  "These  are  your  herds."  He  said:  "All 
these  little  animals  that  live  in  the  ground  —  rats,  squirrels, 
skunks,  beavers  —  are  good  to  eat.  You  need  not  fear  to 
eat  of  their  flesh."  He  made  all  the  birds  that  fly,  and  told 
the  people  that  there  was  no  harm  in  their  flesh,  that  it 
could  be  eaten.  The  first  people  that  he  created  he  used 
to  take  about  through  the  timber  and  swamps  and  over  the 
prairies,  and  show  them  the  different  plants.  Of  a  certain 
plant  he  would  say,  "  The  root  of  this  plant,  if  gathered  in 
a  certain  month  of  the  year,  is  good  for  a  certain  sickness." 
So  they  learned  the  power  of  all  herbs. 

1  That  is,  that  their  friends  who  survive  may  always  remember  them. 


I 


140  STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 

In  those  clays  there  were  buffalo.  Now  the  people  had 
no  arms,  but  those  black  animals  with  long  beards  were 
armed  ;  and  once,  as  the  people  were  moving  about,  the 
buffalo  saw  them,  and  ran  after  them,  and  l\ooked  them,  and 
killed  and  au  oiem.  One  day,  as  the  Maker  of  the  people 
was  travelling  over  the  country,  he  saw  some  of  his  children, 
that  he  had  made,  lying  dead,  torn  to  pieces  and  partly 
eaten  by  the  buffalo.  When  he  saw  this  he  was  very  sad. 
He  said :  "  This  will  not  do.  I  will  change  this.  The 
people  shall  eat  the  buffalo." 

He  went  to  some  of  the  people  who  were  left,  and  said  to 
them,  "  How  is  it  that  you  people  do  nothing  to  these 
animals  that  are  killing  you?"  The  people  said:  "What 
can  we  do?  We  have  no  way  to  kill  these  animals,  while 
they  are  armed  and  can  kill  us."  Then  said  the  Maker : 
"  That  is  not  hard.  I  will  make  you  a  weapon  that  will  kill 
these  animafs."  So  he  went  out,  and  cut  some  sarvis  berry 
shoots,  and  brought  them  in,  and  peeled  the  bark  off  them. 
He  took  a  larger  piece  of  wood,  and  flattened  it,  and  tied  a 
string  to  it,  and  made  a  bow.  Now,  as  he  was  the  master  of 
all  birds  and  could  do  with  them  as  he  wished,  he  went  out 
and  caught  one,  and  took  feathers  from  its  wing,  and  split 
them,  and  tied  them  to  the  shaft  of  wood.  He  tied  four 
feathers  along  the  shaft,  and  tried  the  arrow  at  a  mark,  and 
found  that  it  did  not  fly  well.  He  took  these  feathers  off, 
and  put  on  three ;  and  when  he  tried  it  again,  he  found  that 
it  was  good.  He  went  out  and  began  to  break  sharp  pieces 
off  the  stones.  He  tried  them,  and  found  that  the  black 
flint  stones  made  the  best  arrow  points,  and  some  white 
flints.     Then  he  taught  the  people  how  to  use  these  things. 

Then  he  said  :  "  The  next  time  you  go  out,  take  these 
things  with  you,  and  use  them  as  I  tell  you,  and  do  not  run 
from  these  animals.  When  they  run  at  you,  as  soon  as  they 
get  pretty  close,  shoot  the  arrows  at  them,  as  I  have  taught 


" 


THE    BLACKFOOT    GENESIS 


141 


* 


7 


ii 


you ;  and  you  will  see  that  they  will  run  from  you  or  will  run 
in  a  circle  around  you." 

Now,  as  people  became  plenty,  one  day  three  men  went 
out  on  to  the  plain  to  see  the  buffalo,  but  they  had  no  arms. 
They  saw  the  animals,  but  when  the  buffalo  saw  the  men, 
they  ran  after  them  and  killed  two  of  them,  but  one  got 
away.  One  day  after  this,  the  people  went  on  a  little  hill 
to  look  about,  and  the  buffalo  saw  them,  and  said,  "Saiya/i, 
there  is  some  more  of  our  food,"  and  they  rushed  on  them. 
This  time  the  people  did  not  run.  They  began  to  shoot  at 
the  buffalo  with  the  bows  and  arrows  Na^pi  had  given  them, 
and  the  buffalo  began  to  fall ;  but  in  the  fight  a  person  was 
killed. 

At  this  time  these  people  had  flint  knives  given  them,  and 
they  cut  up  the  bodies  of  the  dead  buffalo.  It  is  not  health- 
ful to  eat  the  meat  raw,  so  Old  Man  gathered  soft  dry  rotten 
driftwood  and  made  punk  of  it,  and  then  got  a  piece  of 
hard  wood,  and  drilled  a  hole  in  it  with  an  arrow  point,  and 
gave  them  a  pointed  piece  of  hard  wood,  and  taught  them 
how  to  make  a  fire  with  fire  sticks,  and  to  cook  the  flesh  of 
these  animals  and  eat  it. 

They  got  a  kind  of  stone  that  was  in  the  land,  and  then 
took  another  harder  stone  and  worked  one  upon  the  other, 
and  hollowed  out  the  softer  one,  and  made  a  kettle  of  it. 
This  was  the  fashion  of  their  dishes. 

Also  Old  Man  said  to  the  people  :  "  Now,  if  you  are  over- 
come, you  may  go  and  sleep,  and  get  power.  Something 
will  come  to  you  in  your  dream,  that  will  help  you.  What- 
ever these  animals  tell  you  to  do,  you  must  obey  them,  as 
they  appear  to  you  in  your  sleep.  Be  guided  by  them.  If 
anybody  wants  help,  if  you  are  alone  and  travelling,  and 
cry  aloud  for  help,  your  prayer  will  be  answered.  It  may 
be  by  the  eagles,  perhaps  by  the  buffalo,  or  by  the  bears. 
Whatever  animal  answers  your  prayer,  you  must  listen 
to  him." 


142  STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 

That  was  how  the  first  people  got  through  tlic  world,  by 
the  power  of  their  dreams. 

After  this,  Old  Man  kept  on,  travelling  north.  Many  of 
the  animals  that  he  had  made  followed  him  as  he  went. 
The  animals  understood  him  when  he  spoke  to  them,  and 
he  used  them  as  his  servants.  When  he  got  to  the  north 
point  of  the  Porcupine  Mountains,  there  he  made  some 
more  mud  images  of  people,  and  blew  breath  upon  them, 
and  they  became  peoi)le.  He  made  men  and  women. 
They  asked  him,  "What  are  we  to  eat?  "  He  made  many 
images  of  clay,  in  the  form  of  buffalo.  Then  he  blew  breath 
on  these,  and  they  stood  up  ;  and  when  he  made  signs  to 
them,  they  started  to  run.  Then  he  said  to  the  jieople, 
"  Those  are  your  food."  They  said  to  him,  "  Well,  now, 
we  have  those  animals;  how  are  we  to  kill  them?"  "I 
will  show  you,"  he  said.  He  took  them  to  the  cliff,  and 
made  them  build  rock  piles  like  this,  >  ;  and  he  made  the 
people  hide  behind  these  piles  of  rock,  and  said,  "  When  I 
lead  the  buffalo  this  way,  as  I  bring  them  opposite  to  you, 
rise  up." 

After  he  had  told  them  how  to  act,  he  started  on  toward 

a  herd  of  buffalo.     He  began  to  call  them,  and  the  buffalo 

started  to  run  toward  him,  and  they  followed  him  until  they 

were  inside  the  lines.     Then  he  dropped  back  ;  and  as  the 

I  people  rose  up,  the  buffalo  ran  in  a  straight  line  and  jumped 

}  over  the  cliff.     He  told  the  people  to  go  and  take  the  flesh 

'  of  those  animals.     They  tried  to  tear  the  limbs  apart,  but 

they  could  not.     They  tried  to  bite  pieces  out,  and  could 

not.     So  Old  Man  went  to  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  broke 

some  pieces  of  stone  with  sharp  edges,  and  told  them  to 

i  cut  the  flesh  with  these,     ^^'hen  they  had  taken  the  skins 

j  from  these  animals,  they  set  up  some  poles  and  put  the  hides 

on  them,  and  so  made  a  shelter  to  sleep  under.     There  were 

some  of  these  buffalo  that  went  over  the  cliff  that  were  not  i 

dead.     Their   legs  were  broken,  but  they  were  still   alive.  ■ 


tmtm 


THE    ULACKFOOT    GENESIS 


143 


i 


The  people  cut  strips  of  green  hide,  and  tied  stones  in  the 
middle,  and  made  large  mauls,  and  broke  in  the  skulls  of 
the  l)uffalo,  and  killed  them. 

After  he  had  taught  those  people  these  things,  he  started 
off  again,  travelling  north,  until  he  came  to  where  Bow  and 
I'llbow  rivers  meet.  There  he  made  some  more  people, 
and  taught  them  the  same  things.  P'rom  here  he  again 
went  on  northward.  When  he  had  come  nearly  to  the  Red 
Deer's  River,  he  reached  the  hill  where  the  Old  Man  sleeps. 
There  he  lay  down  and  rested  himself  The  form  of  his 
body  is  to  be  seen  there  yet. 

When  he  awoke  from  his  sleep,  he  travelled  further  north- 
ward and  came  to  a  fine  high  hill.  He  climbed  to  the  top 
of  it,  and  there  sat  down  to  rest.  He  looked  over  the 
country  below  him,  and  it  pleased  him.  Before  him  the  hill 
was  steep,  and  he  said  to  himself,  "  Well,  this  is  a  fine  place 
for  sliding  ;  I  will  have  some  fun,"  and  he  began  to  slide 
down  the  hill.  The  marks  where  he  slid  down  are  to  be 
seen  yet,  and  the  place  is  known  to  all  people  as  the  "  Old 
Man's  Sliding  Oround." 

This  is  as  far  as  the  Black  feet  followed  Old  Man.  The 
Crees  know  what  he  did  further  north. 

In  later  times  once,  jVa'/'i  said,  "  Here  I  will  mark  you 
off  a  piece  of  ground,"  and  he  did  so."  Then  he  said  : 
"There  is  your  land,  and  it  is  full  of  all  kinds  of  animals, 
and  many  things  grow  in  this  land.  Let  no  other  people 
come  into  it.  This  is  for  you  five  tribes  (Blackfeet,  Bloods, 
I'iegans,  (Iros  Ventres,  Sarcees).  When  people  come  to 
cross  the  line,  take  your  bows  and  arrows,  your  lances  and 


!  I 


1  The  boundaries  of  this  land  are  given  as  running  east  from  a  point  in 
the  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  west  of  Fort  Edmonton,  taking  in  the 
country  to  the  east  and  south,  including  the  Porcupine  Hills,  Cypress  Moun- 
tains, and  Little  Rocky  Mountains,  down  to  the  mouth  of  the  Yellowstone 
on  the  Missouri;  then  west  to  the  head  of  the  Yellowstone,  and  across  the 
Rocky  Mountains  to  the  Beaverhead ;  thence  to  the  summit  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  and  north  along  them  to  the  starting-point. 


jMHM 


144 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


if 


your  battle  axes,  and  give  them  battle  and  keep  them  out. 
If  they  gain  a  footing,  trouble  will  come  to  you." 

Our  forefathers  gave  battle  to  all  people  who  came  to 
cross  these  lines,  and  kei)t  them  out.  Of  late  years  we  have 
let  our  friends,  the  white  people,  come  in,  and  you  know 
the  result.     We,  his  children,  have  failed  to  obey  his  laws. 


I 


THE    DOG   AND   THE   STICK 


;i 


1 


This  happened  long  ago.  In  those  days  the  people  were 
hungry.  No  buffalo  nor  antelope  were  seen  on  the  prairie. 
The  deer  and  the  elk  trails  were  covered  with  grass  and 
leaves  ;  not  even  a  rabbit  could  be  found  in  the  brush. 
Then  the  people  prayed,  saying :  "  Oh,  Old  Man,  help  us 
now,  or  we  shall  die.  The  buffalo  and  deer  are  gone.  Use- 
lessly we  kindle  the  morning  fires  ;  useless  are  our  arrows  ; 
our  knives  stick  fast  in  the  sheaths." 

Then  Old  Man  started  out  to  find  the  game,  and  he  took 
with  him  a  young  man,  the  son  of  a  chief.  For  many  days 
they  travelled  the  prairies  and  ate  nothing  but  berries  and 
roots.  One  day  they  climbed  a  high  ridge,  and  when  they  had 
reached  the  top,  they  saw,  far  off  by  a  stream,  a  single  lodge. 

"What  kind  of  a  person  can  it  be,"  said  the  young  man, 
"who  camps  there  all  alone,  far  from  friends?" 

"That,"  said  Old  Man,  "is  the  one  who  has  hidden  all 
the  buffalo  and  deer  from  the  people.  He  has  a  wife  and  a 
littr  son." 

Then  they  went  close  to  the  lodge,  and  Old  Man  changed 
himself  into  a  little  dog,  and  he  said,  "  That  is  I."  Then  the 
young  man  changed  himself  into  a  root-digger,^  and  he 
said,  "That  is  I." 

Now  the  little  boy,  playing  about,  found  the  dog,  and  he 
carried  it  to  his  father,  saying,  "  Look  !  See  what  a  pretty 
little  dog  I  have  found." 

1 A  carved  and  painted  stick  .ibout  three  feet  long,  shaped  like  a  sacking 
needle,  used  by  women  to  unearth  roots. 

'45 


146 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


"Throw  it  away,"  said  his  father ;  "it  is  not  a  dog."  And 
the  little  boy  cried,  but  his  father  made  him  carry  the  dog 
away.  Then  the  boy  found  the  root-digger ;  and,  again  pick- 
ing up  the  dog,  he  carried  them  both  to  the  lodge,  say- 
ing, "  Look,  mother  !  see  the  pretty  root-digger  I  have 
found  !  " 

"Throw  them  both  away,"  said  his  father  ;  "  that  is  not  a 
stick,  that  is  not  a  dog." 

"  I  want  that  stick,"  said  the  woman  ;  "  let  our  son  have 
the  little  dog." 

"Very  well,"  said  her  husband,  "but  remember,  if  trouble 
comes,  you  bring  it  on  yourself  and  on  our  son."  Then  he 
sent  his  wife  and  son  off  to  pick  berries  ;  and  when  they  were 
out  of  sight,  he  went  out  and  killed  a  bufflilo  cow,  and  brought 
the  meat  into  the  lodge  and  covered  it  up,  and  the  bones, 
skin  and  offal  he  threw  in  the  creek.  When  his  wife  returned, 
he  gave  her  some  of  the  meat  to  roast ;  and  while  they  were 
eating,  the  little  boy  fed  the  dog  tliree  times,  and  when  he 
gave  it  more,  his  father  took  tlie  meat  away,  saying,  "  That 
is  not  a  dog,  you  shall  not  feed  it  more." 

In  the  night,  when  all  were  asleep.  Old  Man  and  the 
young  man  arose  in  their  right  shapes,  and  ate  of  the  meat. 
"  You  were  right,"  said  the  young  man  ;  "  this  is  surely  the 
person  who  has  hidden  the  buffalo  from  us."  "Wait,"  said 
Old  Man  ;  and  when  they  had  finished  eating,  they  changed 
themselves  back  into  the  stick  and  the  dog. 

In  the  morning  the  man  sent  his  wife  and  son  to  dig  roots, 
and  the  woman  took  the  stick  with  her.  The  dog  followed 
the  little  boy.  Now,  as  they  travelled  along  in  search  of 
roots,  they  came  near  a  cave,  and  at  its  mouth  stood  a 
buffalo  cow.  Then  the  dog  ran  into  the  cave,  and  the  slick, 
slipi)ing  from  the  woman's  hand,  followed,  gliding  along  like 
a  snake.  In  this  cave  they  found  all  the  buffalo  and  other 
game,  and  they  began  to  drive  them  out  ;  and  soon  the  prairie 


THE    DOG    AND    THE    STICK 


M7 


was  covered  with  buffalo  and  deer.    Never  before  were  seen 
so  many. 

Pretty  soon  the  man  came  running  up,  and  he  said  to  his 
wife,  "Who  now  drives  out  my  animals?"  and  she  replied, 
"  The  dog  and  the  stick  are  now  in  there."  "  Did  I  not  tell 
you,"  said  he,  "that  those  were  not  what  they  looked  like? 
See  now  the  trouble  you  have  brought  upon  us,"  and  he  put 
an  arrow  on  his  bow  and  waited  for  them  to  come  out. 
But  they  were  cunning,  for  when  the  last  animal  —  a  big 
bull  —  was  about  to  go  out,  the  stick  grasped  him  by  the 
hair  under  his  neck,  and  coiled  up  in  it,  and  the  dog  held 
on  by  the  hair  beneath,  until  they  were  far  out  on  the  prairie, 
when  they  changed  into  their  true  shapes,  and  drove  the 
buffalo  toward  camp. 

AVhen  the  people  saw  the  buffalo  coming,  they  drove 
a  big  band  of  them  to  the  pis'kun  ;  but  just  as  the  leaders 
were  about  to  jump  off,  a  raven  came  and  flapped  its 
wings  in  front  of  them  and  croaked,  and  they  turned  off 
another  way.  Every  time  a  band  of  buffalo  was  driven  near 
the  ))is'kun,  this  raven  frightened  them  away.  Then  Old 
Man  knew  that  the  raven  was  the  one  who  had  kept  the 
buffalo  cached. 

So  he  went  and  changed  himself  into  a  beaver,  and  lay 
stretched  out  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  as  if  dead  ;  and  the 
raven,  which  was  very  hungry,  flew  down  and  began  to  pick  at 
him.  Then  Old  Man  caught  it  by  the  legs  and  ran  with  it 
to  camp,  and  all  the  chiefs  came  together  to  decide  what 
should  be  done  with  it.  Some  said  to  kill  it,  but  Old  Man 
said,  "  No  !  I  will  punish  it,"  and  he  tied  it  over  the  lodge, 
right  in  the  smoke  hole. 

As  the  (lays  went  by,  the  raven  grew  poor  and  weak,  and 
his  eyes  were  blurred  with  the  thick  smoke,  and  he  cried 
continually  to  Old  Man  to  pity  him.  One  day  Old  Man 
untied  him,  and  ♦old  him  to  take  his  right  shape,  saying : 
"  Why  have  you  tried  to  fool  Old  Man?     Look  at  me!     I 


148 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


cannot  die.  Look  at  me  !  Of  all  peoples  and  tribes  I  am 
the  chief.  I  cannot  die.  I  made  the  mountains.  They 
are  standing  yet.  I  made  the  prairies  and  the  rocks.  You 
see  them  yet.  Go  home,  then,  to  your  wife  and  your  child, 
and  when  you  are  hungry  hunt  like  any  one  else,  or  you 
shall  die." 


n^ 


T 


h^ 


THE   BEARS 


T 


Now  Old  Man  was  walking  along,  and  far  off  he  saw 
many  wolves ;  and  when  he  came  closer,  he  saw  there  the 
chief  of  the  wolves,  a  very  old  one,  and  sitting  around  him 
were  all  his  children. 

Old  Man  said,  "Pity  me,  Wolf  Chief;  make  me  into  a 
wolf,  that  I  may  live  your  way  and  catch  deer  and  every- 
thing that  runs  fast." 

"  Come  near  then,"  said  the  Wolf  Chief,  "  that  I  may  rub 
your  body  with  my  hands,  so  that  hair  will  cover  you." 

"  Hold,"  said  Old  Man ;  "  do  not  cover  my  body  with 
hair.     On  my  head,  arms,  and  legs  only,  put  hair." 

When  the  Chief  Wolf  had  done  so,  he  said  to  Old  Man  : 
"You  shall  have  three  companions  to  help  you,  one  is  a 
very  swift  runner,  another  a  good  runner,  and  the  last  is  not 
very  fast.  Take  them  with  you  now,  and  others  of  my 
younger  children  who  are  learning  to  hunt,  but  do  not  go 
where  the  wind  blows;  keep  in  the  shelter,  or  the  young 
ones  will  freeze  to  death."  Then  they  went  hunting,  and 
Old  Man  led  them  on  the  high  buttes,  where  it  was  very  cold. 

At  night,  they  lay  down  to  sleep,  and  Old  Man  nearly 
froze;  and  he  said  to  the  wolves,  "Cover  me  with  your 
tails."  So  all  the  wolves  lay  down  around  him,  and  covered 
his  body  with  their  tails,  and  he  soon  got  warm  and  slept. 
Before  long  he  awoke  and  said  angrily,  "Take  off  those 
tails,"  and  the  wolves  moved  away ;  but  after  a  little  time 
he  again  became  cold,  and  cried  out,  "Oh  my  young 
brothers,  cover  me  with  your  tails  or  I  shall  freeze."    So 

149 


150  STORIES    OF    OLD    MAti 

they  lay  down  by  him  again  and  covered  his  body  with 
their  tails. 

When  it  was  daylight,  they  all  rose  and  hunted.  They 
saw  some  moose,  and,  chasing  them,  killed  three.  Now, 
when  they  were  about  to  eat,  the  Chief  Wolf  came  along 
with  many  of  his  children,  and  one  wolf  said,  "  Let  us 
make  pemmican  of  those  moose  "  ;  and  every  one  was  glad. 
Then  said  the  one  who  made  pemmican,  "  No  one  must 
look,  everybody  shut  his  eyes,  while  I  make  the  pemmi- 
can "  ;  but  Old  Man  looked,  and  the  pemmican-maker  threw 
a  round  bone  and  hit  him  on  the  nose,  o"-^'  it  hurt.  Then 
Old  Man  said,  "  Let  me  make  the  pcinmican,"  So  all 
the  wolves  shut  their  eyes,  and  Old  Man  took  the  round 
bone  and  killed  the  wolf  who  had  hit  him.  Then  the  Chief 
Wolf  was  angry,  and  he  said,  '•  Why  did  you  kill  your 
brother?"  "  I  did  't  mean  to,"  replied  Old  Man.  "He 
looked  and  I  threw  the  round  bone  at  him,  but  I  only 
meant  to  hurt  him  a  little."  Then  said  the  Chief  Wolf: 
"  You  cannot  live  with  us  any  longer.  Take  one  of  your 
companions,  and  go  off  by  yourselves  and  hunt."  So  Old 
Man  took  the  swift  runner,  and  they  went  and  lived  by 
themselves  a  long  time ;  and  they  killed  all  the  elk,  and 
deer,  and  antelope,  and  moose  they  wanted. 

One  morning  they  awoke,  and  Old  Man  said  :  "  Oh  my 
young  brother,  I  have  had  a  bad  dream.  Hereafter,  when 
you  chase  anything,  if  it  jumps  a  stream,  you  must  not  fol- 
low it.  Even  a  little  spring  you  must  not  jump."  And  the 
wolf  promised  not  to  jumji  over  water. 

Now  one  day  the  wolf  was  chasing  a  moose,  and  it  ran 
on  to  an  island.  The  stream  about  it  was  very  small ;  so 
the  wolf  thought :  "  This  is  such  a  little  stream  that  I  must 
jump  it.  That  moose  is  very  tired,  and  I  don't  think  it  will 
leave  the  island."  So  he  jumped  on  to  the  island,  and  as 
soon  as  he  entered  the  brush,  a  bear  caught  him,  for  the 
island  was  the  home  of  the  Chief  Bear  and  his  two  brothers. 


i 


THE    BEARS 


151 


r 


t 


Old  Man  waited  a  long  time  for  the  wolf  to  come  back, 
and  then  went  to  look  for  him.  He  asked  all  the  birds 
he  met  if  they  had  seen  him,  but  they  all  said  they  had 
not. 

At  last  he  saw  a  kingfisher,  who  was  sitting  on  a  limb 
overhanging  the  water.  "  Why  do  you  sit  there,  my  young 
brother?"  said  Old  Man.  "Because,"  replied  the  king- 
fisher, "  the  Chief  Bear  and  his  brothers  have  killed  your 
wolf;  they  have  eaten  the  meat  and  thrown  the  fat  into  the 
river,  and  whenever  I  see  a  piece  come  floating  along,  I  fly 
down  and  get  it."  Then  said  Old  Man,  "  Do  the  Bear  Chief 
and  his  brothers  often  come  out?  and  where  do  they  live?" 
"  They  come  out  every  morning  to  play,"  said  the  kingfisher ; 
"and  they  live  upon  that  island." 

Old  Man  went  up  there  and  saw  their  tracks  on  the  sand, 
where  they  had  been  playing,  and  he  turned  himself  into  a 
rotten  tree.  By  and  by  the  bears  came  out,  and  when  they 
saw  the  tree,  the  Chief  Bear  said :  "  Look  at  that  rotten 
tree.  It  is  Old  Man.  Go,  brothers,  and  see  if  it  is  not." 
So  the  two  brothers  went  over  to  the  tree,  and  clawed  it ; 
and  they  said,  "  No,  brother,  it  is  only  a  tree."  Then 
the  Chief  Bear  went  over  and  clawed  and  bit  the  tree,  and 
although  it  hurt  Old  Man,  he  never  moved.  Then  the  Bear 
Chief  was  sure  it  was  only  a  tree,  and  he  began  to  play  with 
his  brothers.  Now  while  they  were  playing,  and  all  were  on 
their  backs.  Old  Man  leaned  over  and  shot  an  arrow  into 
each  one  of  them  ;  and  they  cried  out  loudly  and  ran  back 
on  the  island.  Then  Old  Man  changed  into  himself,  and 
walked  down  along  the  river.  Pretty  soon  he  saw  a  frog 
jumping  along,  and  every  time  it  jumped  it  would  say, 
"Ni'-na/i  O-kyai'-yu  !  "  And  sometimes  it  would  stop  and 
sing :  — 

"Ni'-nah   0-kyai'-\u  /    Ni'-nah   O-kvai'-yu  .' 

"  Heart'  Chief 

/- nit'-si-7iHih  A7'- 11  ah 


Chief 

Na/>'-i 

Old  .Man 


V\\\ 


him 


Chi^f 


Ik.r! 

O-kvai'-xuf' 

Bear.'' 


is: 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


"  What  do  you  say  ?  "  cried  Old  Man.  The  frog  repeated 
what  he  had  said. 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Old  Man,  "  tell  me  all  about  it." 

"The  Chief  Bear  and  his  brothers,"  replied  the  frog, 
"  were  playing  on  the  sand,  when  Old  Man  shot  arrows  into 
them.  They  are  not  dead,  but  the  arrows  are  very  near 
their  hearts ;  if  you  should  shove  ever  so  little  on  them,  the 
points  would  cut  their  hearts.  I  am  going  after  medicine 
now  to  cure  them." 

Then  Old  Man  killed  the  frog  and  skinned  her,  and  put 
the  hide  on  himself  and  swam  back  to  the  island,  and 
hopped  up  toward  the  bears,  crying  at  every  step,  "Ni'-tiah 
O-kyai'-yti  !  "  just  as  the  frog  had  done. 

"  Hurry,"  cried  the  Chief  Bear. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Old  Man,  and  he  went  up  and  shoved  the 
arrow  into  his  heart. 

"  I  cured  him  ;  he  is  asleep  now,"  he  cried,  and  he  went 
up  and  shoved  the  arrow  into  the  biggest  brother's  heart.  "  I 
cured  them;  they  aie  asleep  now";  and  he  went  up  and 
shoved  the  arrow  into  the  other  bear's  heart.  Then  he  built  a 
big  fire  and  skinned  the  bears,  and  tried  out  the  fat  and  poured 
it  into  a  hollow  in  the  ground ;  and  he  called  all  the  animals 
to  come  and  roll  in  it,  that  they  might  be  fat.  And  all  the 
animals  came  and  rolled  in  it.  The  bears  came  first  and 
rolled  in  it,  that  is  the  reason  they  get  so  fat.  Last  of  all 
came  the  rabbits,  and  the  grease  was  almost  all  gone ;  but 
they  filled  their  paws  with  it  and  rubbed  it  on  their  backs 
and  between  their  hind  legs.  That  is  the  reason  why  rabbits 
have  two  such  large  layers  of  fat  on  their  backs,  and  that  is 
what  makes  them  so  fat  between  the  hind  legs, 

[Note.  —  The  four  preceding  stories  show  the  serious  side  of  Old  Man's 
char.icter.  Those  which  follow  represent  him  as  malicious,  foolish,  and 
impotent.] 


I 


I 


THE  WONDERFUL  BIRD 


1 


One  day,  as  Old  Man  was  walking  about  in  the  woods,  he 
saw  something  very  queer.  A  bird  was  sitting  on  the  limb 
of  a  tree  making  a  strange  noise,  and  every  time  it  made 
this  noise,  its  eyes  would  go  out  of  its  head  and  fasten  on 
the  tree ;  then  it  would  make  another  kind  of  a  noise,  and 
its  eyes  would  come  back  to  their  places. 

"  Little  Brother,"  cried  Old  Man,  "  teach  me  how  to  do 

that." 

"  If  I  show  you  how  to  do  that,"  replied  the  bird,  "  you 
must  not  let  your  eyes  go  out  of  your  head  more  than  three 
times  a  day.     If  you  do,  you  will  be  sorry." 

"  Just  as  you  say,  Little  Brother.  The  trick  is  yours,  and 
I  will  listen  to  you." 

When  the  bird  had  taught  Old  Man  hjw  to  do  it,  he  was 
very  glad,  and  did  it  three  times  right  away.  Then  he 
stopped.  •'  That  bird  has  no  sense,"  he  said.  "  Why  did 
he  tell  me  to  do  it  only  three  times?  I  will  do  it  again, 
anyhow."  So  he  made  his  eyes  go  out  a  fourth  time ;  but 
now  he  could  not  call  them  back.  Then  he  called  to  the 
bird,  "Oh  Little  Brother,  come  help  me  get  back  my 
eyes."  The  little  bird  did  not  answer  him.  It  had  flown 
away.  Then  Old  Man  felt  all  over  the  trees  with  his  hands, 
but  he  could  not  find  his  eyes  ;  and  he  wandered  about  for  a 
long  time,  crying  and  calling  the  animals  to  help  him. 

A  wolf  had  much  fun  with  him.  The  wolf  had  found 
a  dead  buffalo,  and  taking  a  piece  of  the  meat  which 
smelled  bad,  he  would  hold  it  close  to  Old  Man.     "  I  smell 

I  S3 


154 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


something  dead,"  Old  Man  would  say.  "  I  wish  I  could 
find  it ;  I  am  nearly  starved  to  death."  And  he  would  feel 
all  around  for  it.  Once,  when  the  wolf  was  doing  this,  Old 
Man  caught  him,  and,  plucking  out  one  of  his  eyes,  he  put  it 
in  his  own  head.  Then  he  could  see,  and  was  able  to  find  his 
own  eyes  ;  but  he  could  never  again  do  the  trick  the  little 
bird  had  taught  him. 


Hi 


THE   RACE 


Oncf.  Old  Man  was  travelling  around,  when  he  heard 
some  very  queer  singing.  He  had  never  heard  anything 
like  this  before,  and  looked  all  around  to  see  who  it  was. 
At  last  he  saw  it  was  the  cottontail  rabbits,  singing  and 
making  medicine.  They  had  built  a  fire,  and  got  a  lot  of  hot 
ashes,  and  they  would  lie  down  in  these  ashes  and  sing  while 
one  covered  them  up.  They  would  stay  there  only  a  short 
time  though,  for  the  ashes  were  very  hot. 

"  Little  Brothers,"  said  Old  Man,  "  that  is  very  wonderful, 
how  you  lie  in  those  hot  ashes  and  coals  without  burning.  I 
wish  you  would  teach  me  how  to  do  it." 

"Come  on,  Old  Man,"  said  the  rabbits,  "we  will  show 
you  how  to  do  it.  You  must  sing  our  song,  and  only  stay  in 
the  ashes  a  short  time."  So  Old  Man  began  to  sing,  and  he 
lay  down,  and  they  covered  him  with  coals  and  ashes,  and 
they  did  not  burn  him  at  all. 

"That  is  very  nice,"  he  said.  *'  You  have  powerful  medi- 
cine. Now  I  want  to  know  it  all,  so  you  lie  down  and  let 
me  cover  you  up." 

So  the  rabbits  all  lay  down  in  the  ashes,  and  Old  Man 
covered  them  up,  and  then  he  put  the  whole  fire  over  them. 
One  old  rabbit  got  out,  and  Old  Man  was  about  to  put  her 
back  when  she  said,  "  Pity  me,  my  children  are  about  to 
be  born." 

"  All  right,"  replied  Old  Man.  "  I  will  let  you  go,  so 
there  will  be  some  more  rabbits  ;  but  I  will  roast  these  nicely 
and  have  a  feast."    And  he  put  more  wood  on  the  fire.    When 

155 


156 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


the  rabbits  were  cooked,  he  cut  some  red  willow  brush  and 
laid  them  on  it  to  cool.  The  grease  soaked  into  these 
branches,  so,  even  to-day  if  you  hold  red  willow  over  a  fire, 
you  will  see  the  grease  on  the  bark.  You  can  see,  too,  that 
ever  since,  the  rabbits  have  a  burnt  place  on  their  backs, 
where  the  one  that  got  away  was  singed. 

Old  Man  sat  down,  and  was  waiting  for  the  rabbits  to  cool 
a  little,  when  a  coyote  came  along,  limping  very  badly. 
"  Pity  me.  Old  Man,"  he  said,  "  you  have  lots  of  cooked  rab- 
bits ;  give  me  one  of  them." 

"Go  away,"  exclaimed  Old  Man.  "If  you  are  too  lazy 
to  catch  your  fooil,  I  will  not  help  you." 

"My  leg  is  broken,"  said  the  coyote.  "I  can't  catch 
anything,  and  I  am  starving.     Just  give  me  half  a  rabbit." 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  die,"  replied  Old  Man.  "  I  worked 
hard  to  cook  all  these  rabbits,  and  I  will  not  give  any  away. 
But  I  will  tell  you  what  we  will  do.  We  will  run  a  race  to 
that  butte,  way  out  there,  and  if  you  beat  me  you  can  have 
a  rabbit." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  coyote.  So  they  started.  Old  Man 
ran  very  f;ist,  and  the  coyote  limped  along  behind,  but 
close  to  him,  until  they  got  near  to  the  butte.  Then  the 
coyote  turned  round  and  ran  back  very  fast,  for  he  was 
not  lame  at  all.  It  took  Old  Man  a  long  time  to  go  back, 
and  just  before  he  got  to  the  fire,  the  coyote  swallowed  the 
last  rabbit,  and  trotted  off  over  the  prairie. 


■ 


IHMHBII 


THE   BAD   WEAPONS 


>d 


Once  Old  Man  was  fording  a  river,  when  the  current 
carried  him  down  stream,  and  he  lost  his  weapons.  He  was 
very  hungry,  so  he  took  the  first  wood  he  could  find,  and 
made  a  bow  and  arrows,  and  a  handle  for  his  knife  and 
spear.  When  he  hatl  finished  them,  he  started  up  a  moun- 
tain. Pretty  soon  he  saw  a  bear  digging  roots,  and  he 
thought  he  would  have  some  fun,  so  he  hid  behind  a  log 
and  called  out,  "No-tail  animal,  what  are  you  doing?" 
The  bear  looked  up,  but,  seeing  no  one,  kept  on  digging. 

Then  Old  Man  called  out  again,  "  Hi  !  you  dirt-eater  !  " 
and  then  he  dodged  back  out  of  sight.  Then  the  bear 
sat  up  again,  and  this  time  he  saw  Old  Man  and  ran  after 
him. 

Old  Man  began  shooting  arrows  at  him,  but  the  points  only 
stuck  in  the  skin,  for  the  shafts  were  rotten  and  snapped  off. 
Then  he  threw  his  sjjcar,  but  that  too  was  rotten,  ?nd 
broke.  He  tried  to  stab  the  bear,  but  his  knife  handle  was 
also  rotten  and  broke,  so  he  turned  and  ran ;  and  the  bear 
pursued  him.  As  he  ran,  he  looked  about  for  some  weapon, 
but  there  was  none,  not  even  a  rock.  He  called  out  to  the 
animals  to  help  him,  but  none  came.  His  breath  was  almost 
gone,  and  the  bear  was  very  close  to  him,  when  he  saw  a 
bull's  horn  lying  on  the  ground.  He  picked  it  up,  placed  it 
on  his  head,  and.  turning  around,  bellowed  so  loudly  that  the 
bear  was  scared  and  ran  away. 


?i 


'57 


THE    KLK 

Oi.D  Man  was  very  hungry.  He  had  been  a  long  time 
without  food,  and  was  thinking  how  he  could  get  something 
to  eat,  when  he  saw  a  band  of  elk  on  a  ridge.  So  he  went 
up  to  them  and  said,  "Oh,  my  brothers,  I  am  lonesome 
because  I  have  no  one  to  follow  mc." 

"  Go  on,  ( )ld  Man,"  said  the  elk,  '•  wo  will  follow  you." 
Old  Man  led  them  about  a  long  time,  and  when  it  was  dark, 
he  came  near  a  high-(  ut  bank.  He  ran  around  to  one  sitle 
where  there  was  a  slo|)e,  and  he  went  down  and  then  stood 
right  under  the  steep  bluff,  and  called  out,  "  Come  on,  that 
is  a  nice  jump,  you  will  laugh." 

So  the  elk  jum|)ed  off,  all  but  one  cow,  and  were  killed. 

"  Come  on,"  said  Old  Man,  "they  have  all  jumped  but 
you,  it  is  ni(  e." 

"Take  pity  on  me,"  replied  the  cow.  "  My  child  is  about 
to  be  born,  and  I  am  very  heavy.     I  am  afraid  to  jump." 

"Go  on,  then,"  answered  Old  Man  ;  "go  and  live  ;  then 
there  will  be  ])lenty  of  elk  again  some  day." 

Now  Old  Man  built  a  fire  and  cooked  some  ribs,  and 
then  he  skinned  all  the  elk,  cut  uj)  the  meat  to  dry,  and 
hung  the  tongues  up  on  a  pole. 

Next  day  he  went  off,  and  did  n  )t  come  back  until  night, 
when  he  was  very  hungry  again.  "  I'll  roast  some  ribs,"  he 
said,  "and  a  tongue,  and  I'll  stuff  a  marrow  gut  and  cook 
that.  I  guess  that  will  be  enough  for  to-night."  Hut  when 
he  got  to  the  place,  the  meat  was  all  gone.  The  wolves  had 
eaten  it.  "  I  was  smart  to  hang  up  those  tongues,"  lie  said, 
"or  I  would  not  have  had  anything  to  eat."  But  the 
tongues  were  all  hollow.  TIu-  mice  had  eaten  the  meat  out, 
leaving  only  the  skin.  So  ( )l(i  Man  starved  again. 
158 


T 


i 


4 


OLD   MAN    DOCTORS 


T 


A  pis'kum  had  been  built,  ami  many  buffalo  had  been  run 
in  and  killed.  Tiie  camp  was  full  of  meat,  (ireat  sheets  of 
it  hung  in  the  lodges  and  on  the  racks  outside  ;  and  now 
the  women,  having  c\it  up  ill  the  meat,  were  working  on  the 
hides,  preparing  some  for  robes,  and  scraping  the  hair  from 
others,  to  make  leather. 

About  this  time,  Old  Man  came  along.  He  had  come 
from  far  and  was  very  tired,  so  he  entered  the  first  lodge  he 
came  to  and  sat  down.  Now  this  lodge  belonged  to  three 
old  women.  Their  husbands  had  died  or  been  killed  in 
war,  and  they  had  no  relations  to  help  them,  so  they  were 
very  poor.  After  Old  Man  had  rested  a  little,  they  set  a 
dish  of  food  before  him.  It  was  dried  bull  meat,  very  tough, 
and  some  jiieces  of  belly  fat. 

"■  lliii'-yah  ho ."'  cried  Old  Man,  after  he  had  tasted  a 
piece.  "  Vou  treat  me  badly.  A  whole  pis'kun  of  fiit  buffalo 
just  killed  ;  the  camp  red  with  meat,  and  here  these  old 
women  give  me  tough  bull  meat  and  belly  fat  to  eat. 
1  lurry  now  !  roast  me  some  ribs  and  a  piece  of  back  fat." 

"  Alas  !  "  exclaimed  one  olil  woman.  "  We  have  no  good 
food.  All  our  helpers  are  dead,  and  we  take  what  others 
leave.     Hulls  and  poor  cows  are  all  the  people  leave  us." 

"Ah!"  said  Old  Man,  "how  poor!  you  are  very  poor. 
Take  courage  now.  I  will  help  you.  To-morrow  they  will 
run  another  band  into  the  i)is'kun.  I  will  be  there.  I  will  kill 
the  fattest  cow,  and  you  lan  have  it  all." 

I'hen  the  old  women  were  glad.     They  talked  to  one 

•59 


\ 


i6o 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


another,  saying,  "  Very  good  heart,  Old  Man.  He  helps  the 
poor.  Now  we  will  live.  We  will  have  marrow  guts  and 
liver.     We  will  have  paunch  and  fat  kidneys." 

Old  Man  said  nothing  more.  He  ate  the  tough  meu.i  and 
belly  fat,  and  rolled  up  in  his  robe  and  went  to  sleep. 

Morning  came.  The  people  climbed  the  bluffs  and  went 
out  on  to  the  prairie,  where  they  hid  behind  the  piles  of 
rock  and  bushes,  which  reached  far  out  from  the  cliff  in 
lines  which  were  always  further  and  further  apart.  After  a 
while,  he  who  leads  the  bufi\ilo  was  seen  coming,  bringing  a 
large  band  after  him.  Soon  they  were  inside  the  lines. 
The  people  began  to  rise  up  behind  them,  shouting  and 
waving  their  ro])cs.  Now  they  reached  the  edge  of  the 
bluff.  The  leaders  tried  to  stop  and  turn,  but  those  behind 
kept  pushing  on,  and  nearly  the  whole  band  dashed  down 
over  the  rocks,  only  a  few  of  the  last  ones  turning  aside  and 
escaping. 

The  lodges  were  now  deserted.  .Ml  the  people  were  gone 
to  the  pis'kun  to  kill  the  buffalo  and  butcher  them.  Where 
was  Old  Man  ?  Did  hf  take  his  bow  and  arrows  and  go  to 
the  pis'kun  to  kill  a  fat  -ow  for  the  poor  old  women  ?  No. 
He  was  sneaking  around,  lifting  the  door-ways  of  the  lodges 
and  looking  in.  Bad  person.  Old  Man.  In  the  chiefs 
lodge  he  saw  a  little  child,  a  girl,  asleep.  Outside  was  a 
buffalo's  gall,  and  taking  a  long  stick  he  dipped  the  end  of 
it  in  the  gall ;  and  thL*n,  reaching  carefully  into  the  lodge,  he 
drew  it  across  the  lips  of  the  child  asleep.  Then  he  threw 
the  stick  away,  and  went  in  and  sat  down.  Soon  the  girl 
awoke  and  began  to  cry.  The  gall  was  very  bitter  and 
burned  her  lips. 

"  Pity  me,  Old  Man,"  she  said.  "  Take  this  fearful  thing 
from  my  lips." 

"  I  do  not  doctor  unless  I  am  paid,"  he  replied.  Then 
said  tjie  girl :  "  See  all  my  father's  weapons  hanging  there. 


dk 


i 


OLD    MAN    DOCTORS 


l6l 


I. 


His  shield,  war  head-dress,  scalps,  and  knife.    Cure  me  now, 
and  I  will  give  you  some  of  them." 

"  I  have  more  of  such  things  than  I  want,"  he  replied. 
(What  a  liar  !  he  had  none  at  all.) 

Again  said  the  girl,  "  Pity  me,  help  me  now,  and  I  will 
give  you  my  father's  white  buffalo  robe." 

"  I  have  plenty  of  white  robes,"  replied  Old  Man.  (Again 
he  lied,  for  he  never  had  one.) 

"  Old  Man,"  again  said  the  girl,  '*  in  this  lodge  lives  a 
widow  woman,  my  father's  relation.  Remove  this  fearful 
thing  from  my  lips,  and  I  will  have  my  father  give  her  to 
you." 

"  Now  you  speak  well,"  replied  Old  Man.  "  I  am  a  little 
glad.  I  have  many  wives  "  (he  had  none),  "but  I  would 
just  as  soon  have  another  one." 

So  he  went  close  to  the  child  and  pretended  to  doctor 
her,  but  instead  of  that,  he  killed  her  and  ran  out.  He  went 
to  the  old  women's  lodge,  and  wrapped  a  strip  of  cowskin 
about  his  head,  and  commenced  to  groan,  as  if  he  was  very 
sick. 

Now  the  people  began  to  come  from  the  pis'kun,  carrying 
great  loads  of  meat.  This  dead  girl's  mother  came,  and 
when  she  saw  her  child  lying  dead,  and  blood  on  the  ground, 
she  ran  back  crying  out :  "  My  daughter  has  been  killed  ! 
My  daughter  has  been  killed  !  " 

Then  all  the  people  began  to  shout  out  and  run  around, 
and  the  warriors  and  young  men  looked  in  the  lodges, 
and  up  and  down  the  creek  in  the  brush,  but  they  could 
find  no  one  who  might  have  killed  the  child. 

Then  said  the  father  of  the  dead  girl :  "  Now,  to-day,  we 
will  find  out  who  killed  this  child.  Every  man  in  this 
camp  —  every  young  man,  every  old  man  —  must  come 
and  jump  across  the  creek ;  and  if  any  one  does  not  jump 
across,  if  he  falls  in  the  water,  that  man  is  the  one  who 
did  the  killing." 


1 62 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


All  heard  this,  and  they  began  to  gather  at  the  creek,  one 
behind  another ;  anil  the  women  and  children  went  to  look 
on,  for  they  wanted  to  see  the  person  who  had  killed  the 
little  child.  Now  they  were  ready.  They  were  about  to 
jump,  when  some  one  cried  out,  "Old  Man  is  not  here." 

"True,"  said  the  chief,  looking  around,  "  Old  Man  is  not 
here."     And  he  sent  two  young  men  to  bring  him, 

"  Old  Man  !  "  they  cried  out,  when  they  came  to  the 
lodge,  "  a  child  has  been  killed.  We  have  all  got  to  jum|) 
to  find  out  who  did  it.  The  chief  has  sent  for  you.  You 
will  have  to  jump,  too." 

"  Ki'-yo  /"  exclaimed  the  old  women.  "  Old  Man  is  very 
sick.  (lO  off,  and  let  him  alone.  He  is  so  sick  he  could 
not  kill  meat  for  us  to-day." 

"It  can't  be  helped,"  the  young  men  replied.  "The 
chief  says  every  one  must  jump." 

So  Old  Man  went  out  toward  the  creek  very  slowly,  and 
very  much  scared.  He  did  not  know  what  to  do.  As  he 
was  going  along  he  saw  a  iii'-po-miik-i,^  and  he  said  :  "  Oh 
my  little  brother,  pity  me.  (live  me  some  of  your  power  to 
jump  the  creek,  and  here  is  my  necklace.  See  how  pretty 
it  is.     I  will  give  it  to  you." 

So  they  traded  ;  Old  Man  took  some  of  the  bird's  power, 
and  the  bird  took  Old  Man's  necklace  and  jiut  it  on. 

Now  they  jump.  JW-ka-hi  /  they  jump  way  across  and 
far  on  to  the  ground.  Now  they  jump  ;  another  !  another  ! 
another  !  Now  it  comes  Old  Man's  turn.  He  runs,  he  jumps, 
he  goes  high,  and  strikes  the  ground  far  beyond  any  other 
person's  jump.  Now  comes  the  ni'-po-niiik-i.  "Wo'-ka-Li .'" 
the  men  shout.  "Ki'-yo/"  cry  the  women,  "the  bird  has 
fallen  in  the  creek."  The  warriors  are  running  to  kill  him. 
"  Wait !  Hold  on  !  "  cries  the  bird.  "  Let  me  speak  a  few 
words.  Every  one  knows  I  am  a  good  jumj)er.  I  can  jump 
further  than  any  one  ;  but  Old  Man  asked  me  for  some  of 

1  The  chickadee. 


I 


OIJ)    MAN    DOCTORS 


163 


my  power,  and  I  gave  it  to  him,  and  he  gave  me  this  neck- 
lace. It  is  very  heavy  and  pulled  me  down.  That  is  why  1 
fell  into  the  creek." 

Then  the  people  began  to  shout  and  talk  again,  some  say- 
ing to  kill  the  bird,  and  some  not,  when  Old  Man  shouted 
out :  "Wait,  listen  to  me.  What's  the  use  of  quarrelling  or 
killing  anybody  ?  Let  us  go  back,  and  I  will  doctor  the  child 
alive." 

Ciood  words.  The  people  were  glad.  So  they  went  back, 
and  got  ready  for  the  doctoring.  First,  Old  Man  ordered 
a  large  fire  built  in  the  lodge  where  the  dead  girl  was  lying. 
Two  old  men  were  placed  at  the  back  of  the  lodge,  facing 
each  other.  They  had  spears,  which  they  held  above  their 
heads  and  were  to  thrust  back  and  forth  at  each  other  in 
time  to  the  singing.  Near  the  door-way  were  placed  two 
old  wiMiien,  facing  each  other.  Mach  one  held  a  puk^-sah- 
tchis^ — a  maul,  —  with  which  she  was  to  beat  time  to  the 
singing.  The  other  seats  in  the  lodge  were  taken  by  people 
who  were  to  sing.  Now  Old  Man  hung  a  big  roll  of  belly 
fat  close  over  the  fire,  so  that  the  hot  grease  began  to  drip, 
and  everything  was  ready,  and  the  singing  began.  This 
was  Old  Man's  song  :  — 


Ahk-sa'-ke-wah, 

I  don't  cure, 


Ahk-sa'-ke-wah, 

I  iloii'l  tare, 


Ahk-sa'-ke-wah,  etc. 

I  doii'l  care. 


And  so  they  sung  for  a  long  time,  the  old  men  jabbing  their 
spears  at  each  other,  and  the  old  women  pretending  to  hit 
each  other  with  tlu-ir  mauls. 

.After  a  while  they  rested,  and  Old  Man  said  :  "  Now  I 
want  every  one  to  sliut  their  eyes.  No  one  can  look.  I  am 
going  to  begin  the  real  doctoring."     So  the   people  shut 


I 


1  A  ruuiul  or  obloiij;  stoiu',  to  winch  ;i  luindic  was  bound  by  rawhide 
thongs,  used  for  breaking  marrow  bones,  etc. 


i64 


STORIKS    OF"    OLD    MAN 


their  eyes,  and  the  singing  began  again.  Then  Old  Man 
took  the  dripping  hot  fat  from  the  fire,  gave  it  a  mighty 
swing  around  the  circle  in  front  of  the  people's  faces, 
jumped  out  the  door-way,  and  ran  off.  Every  one  was 
burned.  The  two  old  men  wounded  each  other  with  their 
spears.  The  old  women  knocked  each  other  on  the  head 
with  their  mauls.  The  people  cried  and  groaned,  wiped 
their  burned  faces,  and  rushed  out  the  door ;  but  Old  Man 
was  gone.    They  saw  him  no  more. 


THE   ROCK 


Once  Old  Man  was  travelling,  and  becoming  tired  he 
sat  down  on  a  rock  to  rest.  After  a  while  he  started  to  go 
on,  and  because  the  sun  was  hot  he  threw  his  robe  over  the 
rock,  saying  :  "  Here,  I  give  you  my  robe,  because  you  are 
poor  and  have  let  me  rest  on  you.     Always  keep  it." 

He  had  not  gone  very  far,  when  it  began  to  rain,  and 
meeting  a  coyote  he  said  :  "  Little  brother,  run  back  to 
that  rock,  and  ask  him  to  lend  me  his  robe.  We  will  cover 
ourselves  with  it  and  keep  dry."  So  the  coyote  ran  back  to 
the  rock,  but  returned  without  the  robe.  "Where  is  the 
robe?"  asked  Old  Man.  "Sai-yn/i/"  replied  the  coyote. 
"  The  rock  said  you  gave  him  the  robe,  and  he  was  going  to 
keep  it." 

Then  Old  Man  was  very  angry,  and  went  back  to  the 
rock  and  jerked  the  robe  off  it,  saying  :  "  I  only  wanted  to 
borrow  this  robe  until  the  rain  was  over,  but  now  that  you 
have  acted  so  mean  about  it,  I  will  keep  it.  You  don't 
need  a  robe  anyhow.  You  have  been  out  in  the  rain  and 
snow  all  your  life,  and  it  will  not  hurt  you  to  live  so  always." 

With  the  coyote  he  went  off  into  a  coulee,  and  sat  down. 
The  rain  was  falling,  and  they  covered  themselves  with  the 
robe  and  were  very  comfortable.  Pretty  soon  they  heard 
a  loud  noise,  and  Old  Man  told  the  coyote  to  go  up  on  the 
hill  and  see  what  it  was.  Soon  he  came  nmning  back,  say- 
ing, "  Run  !  run  !  the  big  rock  is  coming  "  ;  and  they  both 
ran  away  as  fast  as  they  could.  The  coyote  tried  to  crawl 
into  a  badger,  hole,  but  it  was  too  small  for  him  and  he  stuck 

i6s 


i66 


STOKIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


fast,  and  before  he  could  get  out,  the  rock  rolled  over  him 
and  cnished  his  hind  parts.  Old  Man  was  sc;;red,  and  as 
he  ran  he  threw  off  his  robe  and  what  clothes  he  could,  so 
that  he  might  run  faster.  The  rock  kept  gaining  on  him  all 
the  time. 

Not  far  off  was  a  band  of  buffalo  bulls,  and  Old  Man 
cried  out  to  them,  saying,  "  Oh  my  brothers,  help  me, 
help  me.  Stop  that  rock."  The  bulls  ran  and  tried  to  stop 
it,  but  it  crushed  their  heads.  Some  tleer  and  antelope 
tried  to  help  Old  Man,  but  they  were  killed,  too.  A  lot  of 
rattlesnakes  formed  themselves  into  a  lariut,  and  tried  to 
catch  it ;  but  those  at  the  noose  end  were  all  cut  to  pieces. 
The  rock  was  now  close  to  Old  Man,  so  close  that  it  began 
to  hit  his  heels ;  and  he  was  about  to  give  up,  when  he  saw 
a  flock  of  bull  bats  circling  over  his  head.  "  Oh  my  little 
brothers,"  he  cried,  "  help  mc.  I  am  almost  dead."  Then 
the  bull  bats  flew  down,  one  after  another,  against  the  rock ; 
and  every  time  one  of  them  hit  it  he  chipped  off  a  piece, 
and  at  last  one  hit  it  fair  in  the  middle  and  broke  it  into  two 
pieces. 

Then  Old  Man  was  very  glad.  Me  went  to  where  there 
was  a  nest  of  bull  bats,  and  made  the  young  ones'  mouths 
very  wide  and  pinched  off  their  bills,  to  make  them  pretty 
and  queer  looking.     That  is  the  reason  they  look  so  to-day. 


i 


I 


THE   THEFT   FROM   THE   SUN 

Once  Old  Man  was  travelling  around,  when  he  came  tc 
the  Sun's  lodge,  and  the  Sun  asked  him  to  stay  a  while. 
Old  Man  was  very  glad  to  do  so. 

One  day  the  meat  was  all  gone,  and  the  Sun  said,  "  Kyt  / 
Old  Man,  what  say  you  if  we  go  and  kill  some  deer?" 

"  You  speak  well,"  replied  Old  Man.   *'  I  like  deer  meat." 

The  Sun  took  down  a  bag  and  pulled  out  a  beautiful  pair 
of  leggings.  They  were  embroidered  with  porcupine  quills 
and  bright  feathers.  "These."  said  the  Sun,  "are  my  hunt- 
ing leggings.  They  are  great  medicine.  All  I  have  to  do  is 
to  put  them  on  and  walk  around  a  patch  of  bnish,  when  the 
leggings  set  it  on  fire  and  drive  the  deer  out  so  that  I  can 
shoot  them." 

"  Ilai-yah  !  "  exclaimed  Old  Man.  "  How  wonderful  !  " 
He  made  up  his  mind  he  would  have  those  leggings,  if  he 
had  to  ste;)l  them. 

They  went  out  to  hunt,  and  the  first  patch  of  brush  they 
came  to,  the  Sun  set  on  fire  with  his  hunting  leggings.  A 
lot  of  white-tail  deer  ran  out,  and  they  each  shot  one. 

That  night,  when  they  went  to  bed,  the  Sun  pulled  off  his 
leggings  and  placed  them  to  one  side.  Old  Man  saw  where 
he  put  them,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  when  every  one 
was  asleep,  he  stole  them  and  went  off  He  travelled  a  long 
time,  until  he  had  gone  far  and  was  very  tired,  .and  then, 
making  a  pillow  of  the  leggings,  lay  down  and  slept.  In  the 
morning,  he  heard  some  one  talking.  The  Sun  was  saying, 
"OKI  Man,  why  are  my  leggings  under  your  head?"     He 

167 


1 68  STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 

looked  around,  and  saw  he  was  in  the  Sun's  lodge,  and 
thought  he  must  have  wandered  around  and  got  lost,  and 
returned  there.  Again  the  Sun  spoke  and  said,  "  What  are 
you  doing  with  my  leggings?"  "  Oh,"  replied  Old  Man,  "  I 
couldn't  find  anything  for  a  pillow,  so  I  just  put  these  under 
my  head." 

Night  came  again,  and  again  Old  Man  stole  the  leggings 
and  ran  off.  This  time  he  did  not  walk  at  all ;  he  just  kept 
running  until  pretty  near  morning,  and  then  lay  down  and 
slept.  You  see  what  a  fool  he  was.  He  did  not  know  that 
the  whole  world  is  the  Sun's  lodge.  He  did  not  know  that, 
no  "matter  how  far  he  ran.  he  could  not  get  out  of  the  Sun's 
sight.  AVhen  morning  came,  he  found  himself  still  in  the 
Sun's  lodge.  But  this  lime  the  Sun  said  :  "  Old  Man,  since 
you  like  my  leggings  so  much,  I  will  give  them  to  you. 
Keep  them."  Then  Old  Man  was  very  glad  and  went 
away. 

One  day  his  food  was  all  gone,  so  he  put  on  the  medicine 
leggings  and  set  fire  to  a  ])icce  of  lirush.  He  was  just  going 
to  kill  some  deer  that  were  running  out,  when  he  saw  that 
the  fire  was  getting  close  to  him.  He  ran  away  as  fast  as 
he  could,  but  the  fire  gained  on  him  and  began  to  burn  his 
legs.  His  leggings  were  all  on  fire.  He  came  to  a  river 
and  jumped  in,  and  pulled  off  the  leggings  as  soon  as  he 
could.     They  were  burned  to  pieces. 

Perhaps  the  Sun  did  this  to  him  because  he  tried  to  steal 
the  leggings. 


1 


0 


THE   FOX 


1 

0 


One  day  Old  Man  went  out  hunting  and  took  the  fox 
with  him.  Ihey  hunted  for  several  days,  but  killed  nothing. 
It  was  nice  warm  weatlier  in  the  late  fall.  .After  they  had 
become  very  hungry,  as  they  were  going  along  one  day,  Old 
Man  went  up  over  a  ridge  and  on  the  other  side  he  saw 
four  big  buffalo  bulls  lying  down  ;  but  there  was  no  way  by 
which  they  could  get  near  them.  He  dodged  back  out  of 
sight  and  told  the  fox  what  he  had  seen,  and  they  thought 
for  a  long  time,  to  see  if  there  was  no  way  by  which  these 
bulls  might  be  killed. 

At  last  Old  Man  said  to  the  fox  :  "My  little  brother,  I  can 
think  of  only  one  way  to  get  these  bulls.  This  is  my  plan, 
if  you  agree  to  it.  I  will  pluck  all  the  fur  off  you  except 
one  tuft  on  the  end  of  your  tail.  Then  you  go  over  the  hill 
and  walk  up  and  down  in  sight  of  the  bulls,  and  you  will 
seem  so  funny  to  them  that  they  will  laugh  themselves  to 
death." 

The  fox  did  not  like  to  do  this,  but  he  could  think  of 
nothing  better,  so  he  agreetl  to  what  Old  Man  proposed. 
(^Id  Man  plucked  him  perfectly  bare,  except  the  end  of  his 
tail,  and  the  fox  went  over  the  ridge  and  walked  up  and 
down.  When  he  had  come  close  to  the  bulls,  he  played 
around  and  walked  on  his  hind  legs  and  went  through  all 
sorts  of  antics.  When  the  bulls  first  saw  him,  they  got  up 
on  their  feet,  and  looked  at  him.  They  did  not  know  what 
to  make  of  him.  Then  they  began  to  laugh,  and  the  more 
they  looked  at  him,  the  more  they  laughed,  until  at  last  one 

169 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

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170 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


by  one  they  fell  down  exhausted  and  died.  Then  Old  Man 
came  over  the  hill,  and  went  down  to  the  bulls,  and  began 
to  butcher  them.     By  this  time  it  had  grown  a  little  colder. 

"Ah,  little  brother,"  said  Old  Man  to  the  fox,  "  you  did 
splendidly.  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  bulls  laughed  them- 
selves to  death.  I  nearly  died  myself  as  I  watched  you 
from  the  hill.  You  looked  very  funny."  While  he  was  say- 
ing this,  he  was  working  away  skinning  off  the  hides  and 
getting  the  meat  ready  to  carry  to  camp,  all  the  time  talking 
to  the  fox,  who  stood  about,  his  back  humped  up  and  his 
teeth  chattering  with  the  cold.  Now  a  wind  sprang  up  from 
the  north  and  a  few  snowflakes  were  flying  in  the  air.  It 
was  growing  colder  and  colder.  Old  Man  kept  on  talking, 
and  every  now  and  then  he  would  say  something  to  the  fox, 
who  was  sitting  behind  him  perfectly  still,  with  his  jaw 
shoved  out  and  his  teeth  shining. 

At  last  Old  Man  had  the  bulls  all  skinned  and  the  meat 
cut  up,  and  as  he  rose  up  he  said  :  "  It  is  getting  pretty  cold, 
isn't  it?  Well,  we  do  not  care  for  the  cold.  We  have  got 
all  our  winter's  meat,  and  we  will  have  nothing  to  do  but 
feast  and  dance  and  sing  until  spring."  The  fox  made  no 
answer.  Then  Old  Man  got  angry,  and  called  out :  "  Why 
don't  you  answer  me?  Don't  you  hear  me  talking  to  you?" 
The  fox  said  nothing.  Then  Old  Man  was  mad,  and  he 
said,  "Can't  you  speak?"  and  stepped  up  to  the  fox  and 
gave  him  a  push  with  his  foot,  and  the  fox  fell  over.  He 
was  dead,  frozen  stiff  with  the  cold. 


J 


I 


OLD   MAN   AND   THE   LYNX 


J  '4 


i 


Old  Man  was  travelling  round  over  the  prairie,  when  he 
saw  a  lot  of  prairie-dogs  sitting  in  a  circle.  They  had  built 
a  fire,  and  were  sitting  around  it.  Old  Man  went  toward 
them,  and  when  he  got  near  them,  he  began  to  cry,  and  said, 
"  Let  me,  too,  sit  by  that  fire."  The  prairie-dogs  said  :  "All 
right,  Old  Man.  Don't  cry.  Come  and  sit  by  the  fire." 
Old  Man  sat  down,  and  saw  that  the  prairie-dogs  were  play- 
ing a  game.  They  would  put  one  of  their  number  in  the  fire 
and  cover  him  up  with  the  hot  ashes ;  and  then,  after  he  had 
been  there  a  little  while,  he  would  say  sk,  sk,  and  they  would 
push  the  ashes  off  him,  and  pull  him  out. 

Old  Man  said,  "Teach  me  how  to  do  that "  ;  and  they  told 
him  what  to  do,  and  put  him  in  the  fire,  and  covered  him 
up  with  the  ashes,  and  after  a  little  while  he  said  sk,  sk,  like 
a  prairie-dog,  and  they  pulled  him  out  again.  Then  he  did 
it  to  the  prairie-dogs.  At  first  he  put  them  in  one  at  a  time, 
but  there  were  many  of  them,  and  pretty  soon  he  got  tired, 
and  said,  "  Come,  I  will  put  you  all  in  at  once."  They  said, 
"Very  well.  Old  Man,"  and  all  got  in  the  ashes  ;  but  just  as 
Old  Man  was  about  to  cover  them  up,  one  of  them,  a  female 
heavy  with  young,  said,  "  Do  not  cover  me  up ;  the  heat 
may  hurt  my  children,  which  are  about  to  be  born."  Old 
Man  said  :  "  Very  well.  If  you  do  not  want  to  be  covered 
up,  you  can  sit  over  by  the  fire  and  watch  the  rest."  Then 
he  covered  up  all  the  others. 

At  length  the  prairie-dogs  said  sk,  sk,  but  Old  Man  did 
not  sweep  the  ashes  off  and  pull  them  out  of  the  fire.     He 

171 


172 


STORIES    OF    OLD    MAN 


I  > 

I 


let  them  stay  there  and  die.  The  old  she  one  ran  off  to  a 
hole  and,  as  she  went  down  in  it,  said  sk,  sk.  Old  Man 
chased  her,  but  he  got  to  the  hole  too  late  to  catch  her.  So 
he  said  :  "  Oh,  well,  you  can  go.  There  will  be  more  prairie- 
dogs  by  and  by." 

Whei  the  prairie-dogs  were  roasted.  Old  Man  cut  a  lot  of 
red  willow  brush  to  lay  them  on,  and  then  sat  down  and 
began  to  eat.  He  ate  until  he  was  full,  and  then  felt  sleepy. 
He  said  to  his  nose  :  "  I  am  going  to  sleep  now.  Watch  for 
me  and  wake  me  up  in  case  anything  comes  near."  Then 
Old  Man  slept.  Pretty  soon  his  nose  snored,  and  he  woke 
up  and  said,  "What  is  it?"  The  nose  said,  "A  raven  is 
flying  over  there."  Old  Man  said,  "  That  is  nothing,"  and 
went  to  sleep  again.  Soon  his  nose  snored  again.  Old  Man 
said,  "  What  is  it  now?  "  The  nose  said,  "  There  is  a  coyote 
over  there,  coming  this  way."  Old  Man  said,  "  A  coyote  is 
nothing,"  and  again  went  to  sleep.  Presently  his  nose  snored 
again,  but  Old  Man  did  not  wake  up.  Again  it  snored,  and 
called  out,  "  \Vake  up,  a  bob-cat  is  coming."  Old  Man  paid 
no  attention.     He  slept  on. 

The  bob-cat  crept  up  to  where  the  fire  was,  and  ate  up  all 
the  roast  prairie-dogs,  and  then  went  off  and  lay  down  on  a 
flat  rock,  and  went  to  sleep.  All  this  time  the  nose  kept 
trying  to  wake  Old  Man  up,  and  at  last  he  awoke,  and  the 
nose  said  :  "  A  bob-cat  is  over  there  on  that  flat  rock.  He 
has  eaten  all  your  food."  Then  Old  Man  called  out  loud,  he 
was  so  angry.  He  went  softly  over  to  where  the  bob-cat  lay, 
and  seized  it,  before  it  could  wake  up  to  bite  or  scratch  him. 
The  bob-cat  cried  out,  "  Hold  on,  let  me  speak  a  word  or 
two."  But  Old  Man  would  not  listen  ;  he  said,  "  I  will  teach 
you  to  steal  my  food."  He  pulled  off  the  lynx's  tail,  pounded 
his  head  against  the  rock  so  as  to  make  his  face  flat,  pulled 
him  out  long,  so  as  to  make  him  small-bellied,  and  then 
threw  him  away  into  the  brush.  As  he  went  sneaking 
off,  Old  Man  said,  "  There,  that  is  the  way  you  bob-cats 


h 


OLD  MAN  AND  THE  LYNX 


173 


^ 


shall  always  be."     That  is  the  reason  the  lynxes  look  so  to- 
day. 

Old  Man  went  back  to  the  fire,  and  looked  at  the  red 
willow  sticks  where  his  food  had  been,  and  it  made  him 
mad  at  his  nose.      He  said,  "You  fool,  why  did  you  not 
wake  me?"      He  took  the  willow  sticks  and  thrust  them  in 
the  coals,  and  when  they  took  fire,  he  burned  his  nose.    This 
pained  him  greatly,  and  he  ran  up  on  a  hill  and  held  his  nose 
to  the  wind,  and  called  on  it  to  blow  hard  and  cool  him. 
A  hard  wind  came,  and  it  blew  him  away  down  to  Birch 
Creek.     As  he  was  flying  along,  he  caught  at  the  weeds  and 
brush  to  try  to  stop  himself,  but  nothing  was  strong  enough 
to  hold  him.    At  last  he  seized  a  birch  tree.     He  held  on  to 
this,  and  it  did  not  give  way.     Although  the  wind  whipped 
him  about,  this  way  and  that,  and  tumbled  him  up  and  down, 
the  tree  held  him.     He  kept  calling  to  the  wind  to  blow 
gently,  and  finally  it  listened  to  him  and  went  down. 

So  he  said :  "  This  is  a  beautiful  tree.  It  has  kept  me 
from  being  blown  away  and  knocked  all  to  pieces.  I  will 
ornament  it  and  it  shall  always  be  like  that."  So  he  gashed 
it  across  with  his  stone  knife,  as  you  see  it  to-day. 


hi^ 


*£ 


THE   STORY   OF  THE  THREE  TRIBES 


i 


^ 


THE   PAST   AND   THE   PRESENT 

Fifty  years  ago  the  name  Blackfoot  was  one  of  terrible 
meaning  to  the  white  traveller  who  passed  across  that  deso- 
late buffalo-trodden  waste  which  lay  to  the  north  of  the 
Yellowstone  River  and  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  This 
was  the  Blackfoot  land,  the  undisputed  home  of  a  people 
which  is  said  to  have  numbered  in  one  of  its  tribes  —  the 
Pi-kun'-i  —  8000  lodges,  or  40,000  persons.  Besides  these, 
there  were  the  Blackfeet  and  the  Bloods,  three  tribes  of 
one  nation,  speaking  the  same  language,  having  the  same 
customs,  and  holding  the  same  religious  faith. 

But  this  land  had  not  always  been  the  home  of  the  Black- 
feet.  Long  ago,  before  the  coming  of  the  white  men,  they 
had  lived  in  another  country  far  to  the  north  and  east,  about 
Lesser  Slave  Lake,  ranging  between  Peace  River  and  the 
Saskatchewan,  and  having  for  their  neighbors  on  the  north 
the  Beaver  Indians.  Then  the  Blackfeet  were  a  timber 
people.  It  is  said  that  about  two  hundred  years  ago  the 
Chippeweyans  from  the  east  invaded  this  country  and  drove 
them  south  and  west.  Whether  or  no  this  is  true,  it  is  quite 
certain  that  not  many  generations  back  the  Blackfeet  lived 
on  the  North  Saskatchewan  River  and  to  the  north  of  that 
stream.'  Gradually  working  their  way  westward,  they  at 
length  reached  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and,  finding  game 
abundant,  remained  there  until  they  obtained  horses,  in  the 
very   earliest  years   of  the    present   century.     When   they 

1  For  a  more  extyntled  account  of  this  migration,  see  Amerkau  Anthro- 
pologist, April,  1892,  p.  153. 

177 


178 


THE    STORY    OF    THh:    THREE    TRIBES 


secured  horses  and  guns,  they  took  courage  and  began  to 
venture  out  on  to  the  plains  and  to  go  to  war.  From  this 
time  on,  the  Blackfeet  made  constant  war  on  their  neighbors 
to  the  south,  and  in  a  few  years  controlled  the  whole  country 
between  the  Saskatchewan  on  the  north  and  the  Yellowstone 
on  the  south. 

It  was,  indeed,  a  glorious  country  which  the  Blackfeet  had 
wrested  from  their  southern  enemies.  Here  nature  has 
reared  great  mountains  and  spread  out  broad  prairies. 
Along  the  western  border  of  this  region,  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains lift  their  snow-clad  peaks  above  the  clouds.  Here  and 
there,  from  north  to  south,  and  from  east  to  west,  lie  minor 
ranges,  black  with  pine  forests  if  seen  near  at  hand,  or  in  the 
distance  mere  gray  silhouettes  against  a  sky  of  blue.  Be- 
tween these  mountain  ranges  lies  everywhere  the  great 
^  airie ;  a  monotonous  waste  to  the  stranger's  eye,  but  not 
without  its  charm.  It  is  brown  and  bare ;  for,  except 
during  a  few  short  weeks  in  spring,  the  sparse  bunch-grass  is 
sear  and  yellow,  and  the  silver  gray  of  the  wormwood  lends 
an  added  dreariness  to  the  landscape.  Yet  this  seemingly 
desert  waste  has  a  beauty  of  its  own.  At  intervals  it  is 
marked  with  green  winding  river  valleys,  and  everywhere  it 
is  gashed  with  deep  ravines,  their  sides  painted  in  strange 
colors  of  red  and  gray  and  brown,  and  their  perpendicular 
walls  crowned  with  fantastic  columns  and  figures  of  stone  or 
clay,  carved  out  by  the  winds  and  the  rains  of  ages.  Here 
and  there,  rising  out  of  the  plain,  are  curious  sharp  ridges, 
or  square-topped  buttes  with  vertical  sides,  sometimes  bare, 
and  sometimes  dotted  with  pines,  —  short,  sturdy  trees,  whose 
gnarled  trunks  and  thick,  knotted  branches  have  been 
twisted  and  wrung  into  curious  forms  by  the  winds  which 
blow  unceasingly,  hour  after  hour,  day  after  day,  and  month 
after  month,  over  mountain  range  and  prairie,  through 
gorge  and  coulee. 

These  prairies  now  seem  bare  of  life,  but  it  was   not 


THE    PAST    AND    THE    PRESENT 


179 


always  so.  Not  very  long  ago,  they  were  trodden  by  mul- 
titudinous herds  of  buffalo  and  antelope ;  then,  along  the 
wooded  river  valleys  and  on  the  pine-clad  slopes  of  the 
mountains,  elk,  deer,  and  wild  sheep  fed  in  great  numbers. 
They  are  all  gone  now.  The  winter's  wind  still  whistles 
over  Montana  prairies,  but  nature's  shaggy-headed  wild 
cattle  no  longer  feel  its  biting  blasts.  Where  once  the 
scorching  breath  of  summer  stirred  only  the  short  stems  of 
the  buffalo-grass,  it  now  billows  the  fields  of  the  white  man's 
grain.  Half-hidden  by  the  scanty  herbage,  a  few  bleached 
skeletons  alone  remain  to  tell  us  of  the  buffalo  ;  and  the 
broad,  deep  trails,  over  which  the  dark  herds  passed  by 
thousands,  are  now  grass-grown  and  fast  disappearing  under 
the  effacing  hand  of  time.  The  buffalo  have  disappeared, 
and  the  fate  of  the  buffalo  has  almost  overtaken  the  Black- 
feet. 

As  known  to  the  whites,  the  Blackfeet  were  true  prairie 
Indians,  seldom  venturing  into  the  mountains,  except  when 
they  crossed  them  to  war  with  the  Kutenais,  the  Flatheads, 
or  the  Snakes.  They  subsisted  almost  wholly  on  the  flesh 
of  the  buffalo.  They  were  hardy,  untiring,  brave,  ferocious. 
Swift  to  move,  whether  on  foot  or  horseback,  they  made 
long  journeys  to  war,  and  with  telling  force  struck  their 
enemies.  They  had  conquered  and  driven  out  from  the 
territory  which  they  occupied  the  tribes  who  once  inhabited 
it,  and  maintained  a  desultory  and  successful  warfare  against 
all  invaders,  fighting  with  the  Crees  on  the  north,  the 
Assinaboines  on  the  east,  the  Crows  on  the  south,  and  the 
Snakes,  Kalispels,  and  Kutenais  on  the  southwest  and 
west.  In  those  days  the  Blackfeet  were  rich  and  powerful. 
The  bufflilo  fed  and  clothed  them,  and  they  needed,  nothing 
beyond  what  nature  supplied.  This  was  their  time  of  suc- 
cess and  happiness. 

Crowded  into  a  little  corner  of  the  great  territory  which 
they  once  dominated,  and  holding  this  corner  by  an  uncer- 


I  Pi 


1 80 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THRP:E    TRIBES 


tain  tenure,  a  few  Rlackfect  still  exist,  the  pitiful  remnant 
of  a  once  mighty  people.  Huddled  together  about  their 
agencies,  they  are  flxcing  the  problem  before  them,  striving, 
helplessly  but  bravely,  to  accommodate  themselves  to  the 
new  order  of  things ;  trying  in  the  face  of  adverse  surround- 
ings to  wrench  themselves  loose  from  their  accustomed  ways 
of  life  ;  to  give  up  inherited  habits  and  form  new  ones ;  to 
break  away  from  all  that  is  natural  to  them,  from  all  that 
they  have  been  taught  —  to  reverse  their  whole  mode  of  exist- 
ence. They  are  striving  to  earn  their  living,  as  the  white 
man  earns  his,  by  toil.  The  struggle  is  hard  and  slow,  and 
in  carrying  it  on  they  are  wasting  away  and  growing  fewer 
in  numbers.  But  though  unused  to  labor,  ignorant  of  agri- 
culture, unacquainted  with  tools  or  seeds  or  soils,  knowing 
nothing  of  the  ways  of  life  in  permanent  houses  or  of  the 
laws  of  health,  scantily  fed,  often  utterly  discouraged  by 
failure,  they  are  still  making  a  noble  fight  for  existence. 

Only  within  a  few  years  —  since  the  buffalo  disappeared 
—  has  this  change  been  going  on ;  so  recently  has  it  come 
that  the  old  order  and  the  new  meet  face  to  face.  In  the 
trees  along  the  river  valleys,  still  quietly  resting  on  their  aerial 
sepulchres,  sleep  the  forms  of  the  ancient  hunter- warrior  who 
conquered  and  held  this  broad  land  ;  while,  not  far  away, 
Blackfoot  farmers  now  rudely  cultivate  their  little  crops,  and 
gather  scanty  harvests  from  narrow  fields. 

It  is  the  meeting  of  the  past  and  the  present,  of  savagery 
and  civilization.  The  issue  cannot  be  doubtful.  Old  methods 
must  pass  away.  The  Blackfeet  will  become  civilized,  but  at 
a  terrible  cost.  To  me  there  is  an  interest,  profound  and 
pathetic,  in  watching  the  progress  of  the  struggle. 


% 


■  IP 


DAILY   LIFE   AND   CUSTOMS 


Indians  are  usually  represented  as  being  a  silent,  sullen 
race,  seldom  speaking,  and  never  laughing  nor  joking.    How- 
ever true  this  may  be  in  regard  to  some  tribes,  it  certainly 
was  not  the  case  with  most  of  those  who  lived  upon  the  great 
Plains.     These  people  were  generally  talkative,  merry,  and 
light-hearted;    they  delighted  in  fun,  and  were  a  race  of 
jokers.     It  is  true  that,  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  they 
were  grave,  silent,  and  reserved,  but  this  is  nothing  more 
than  the  shyness  and  embarrassment  felt  by  a  child  in  the 
presence  of  strangers.     As  the  Indian  becomes  acquainted, 
this  reserve  wears  off;  he  is  at  his  ease  again  and  appears 
in   his   true   colors,   a   light-hearted   child.     Certainly   the 
Blackfeet  never  were  a  taciturn  and  gloomy  people.     Before 
the  disappearance  of  the  buffalo,  they  were  happy  and  cheer- 
ful.    Why  should  they  not  have  been?     Food  and  clothing 
were  to  be  had  for  the  killing  and  tanning.     All  fur  animals 
were  abundant,  and  thus  the  people  were  rich.     Meat,  really 
the  only  food  they  cared  for,  was  plenty  and  cost  nothing. 
Their  robes  and  furs  were  exchanged  with  the  traders  for 
bright-colored  blankets  and  finery.     So  they  wanted  nothing. 

It  is  but  nine  years  since  the  buffalo  disappeared  from  the 
land.  Only  nine  years  have  passed  since  these  people  gave 
up  that  wild,  free  life  which  was  natural  to  them,  and  ah  ! 
how  dear  !  Let  us  go  back  in  memory  to  those  happy  days 
and  see  ho\*f  they  passed  the  time. 

The  sun  is  just  rising.  Thin  columns  of  smoke  are  creep- 
ing from  the  smoke  holes  of  the  lodges,  and  ascending  in 

i8i 


l82 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


the  btill  morning  air.  Everywhere  the  women  are  busy, 
carrying  water  and  wood,  and  preparing  the  simple  meal. 
And  now  w  see  the  men  come  out,  and  start  for  the  river. 
Some  are  fo.  iwed  by  their  children  ;  some  are  even  carrying 
those  too  small  to  walk.  They  have  reached  the  water's 
edge.  Off  drop  their  blankets,  and  with  a  plunge  and  a 
shivering  ah-h-h  they  dash  into  the  icy  waters.  W'inter  and 
summer,  storm  or  shine,  this  was  their  daily  custom.  They 
said  it  made  them  tough  and  healthy,  and  enabled  them  to 
endure  the  bitter  cold  while  hunting  on  the  bare  bleak 
prairie.  By  the  time  they  have  returned  to  the  lodges,  the 
women  have  prepared  the  early  meal.  A  dish  of  boiled 
meat  —  some  three  or  four  pounds  —  is  set  before  each 
man ;  the  children  are  served  as  much  as  they  can  eat,  and 
the  wives  take  the  rest.  The  horses  are  now  seen  coming 
in,  hundreds  and  thousands  of  them,  driven  by  boys  and 
young  men  who  started  out  after  them  at  daylight.  If 
buffalo  are  close  at  hand,  and  it  has  been  decided  to  make 
a  run,  each  hunter  catches  his  favorite  buffalo  horse,  and 
they  all  start  out  together ;  they  are  followed  by  women,  on 
the  travois  or  pack  horses,  who  will  do  most  of  the  butchering, 
and  transport  the  meat  and  hides  to  camp.  If  there  is  no 
band  of  buffalo  near  by,  they  go  off,  singly  or  by  twos  and 
threes,  to  still-hunt  scattering  buffalo,  or  d^er,  or  elk,  or 
such  other  game  as  may  be  found.  The  women  remaining 
in  camp  are  not  idle.  All  day  long  they  tan  robes,  dry 
meat,  sew  moccasins,  and  perform  a  thousand  and  one  other 
tasks.  The  young  men  who  have  stayed  at  home  carefully 
comb  and  braid  their  hair,  paint  their  faces,  and.  if  the 
weut'^.er  is  pleasant,  ride  or  walk  around  the  camp  so  that 
the  young  women  may  look  at  them  and  see  how  pretty  they 
are. 

Feasting  began  early  in  the  morning,  and  will  be  carried 
on  far  into  the  night.  .V  man  who  gives  a  feast  has  his 
wives  cook  the  choicest  food  they  have,  and  when  all  is 


■h 


.•i^-4yimL^llJ^*..' 


DAILY    LIFE    AND    CUSTOMS 


183 


ready,  he  goes  outside  the  lodge  and  shouts  the  invitation, 
calUng  out  each  guest's  name  three  times,  saying  that  he  is 
invited  to  eat,  and  concludes  by  announcing  that  a  certain 
number  of  pipes  —  generally  three — will  be  smoked.  The 
guests  having  assembled,  each  one  is  served  with  a  dish  of 
food.  Be  the  quantity  large  or  small,  it  is  all  that  he  will 
get.  If  he  does  not  eat  it  all,  he  may  carry  home  what 
remains.  The  host  does  not  eat  with  his  guests.  He  cuts 
up  some  tobacco,  and  carefully  mixes  it  with  Pherbe,  and 
when  all  have  finished  eating,  he  fills  and  lights  a  pipe,  which 
is  smoked  and  passed  from  one  co  another,  beginning  with 
the  first  man  on  his  left.  When  the  last  person  on  the  left 
of  the  host  has  smoked,  the  pipe  is  passed  back  around  the 
circle  to  the  one  on  the  right  of  the  door,  and  smoked  to  the 
left  again.  The  guests  do  not  all  talk  at  once.  When  a 
person  begins  to  speak,  he  expects  every  one  to  listen,  and 
is  never  interru})ted.  During  the  day  the  topics  for  conver- 
sation are  about  the  hunting,  war,  stories  of  strange  advent- 
ures, besides  a  good  deal  of  good-natured  joking  and 
chaffing.  When  the  third  and  last  pipeful  of  tobacco  has 
been  smoked,  the  host  ostentatiously  knocks  out  the  ashes 
and  says  "Kyi"  whereupon  all  the  guests  rise  and  file  out. 
Seldom  a  day  passc<l  but  each  lodge-owner  in  camp  gave 
from  one  to  three  feasts.  In  fact  almost  all  a  man  did,  when 
in  camp,  was  to  go  from  one  of  these  gatherings  to  another. 

A  favorite  pastime  in  the  day  was  gambling  with  a  small 
wheel  calletl  if-se-'-ioah.  This  wheel  was  about  four  inches 
in  diameter,  and  had  five  spokes,  on  which  were  strung 
different-colored  beads,  made  of  bone  or  horn.  A  level, 
smooth  piece  of  ground  was  selected,  at  each  end  of  which 
was  placed  a  log.  At  each  end  of  the  course  were  two  men, 
who  gambled  against  each  other.  A  crowd  always  sur- 
rounded them,  betting  on  the  sides.  The  wheel  was  rolled 
along  the  course,  and  each  man  at  the  end  whence  it  started, 
darted  an  arrow  at  it.    The  cast  was  made  just  before  the 


1 84 


THE    STORY    OF    THE   THREE    TRIBES 


wheel  reached  the  log  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  track,  and 
points  were  counted  according  as  the  arrow  passed  between 
the  spokes,  or  when  the  wheel,  stopped  by  the  log,  was  in 
contact  with  the  arrow,  the  position  and  nearness  of  the 
different  beads  to  the  arrow  representing  a  certain  number 
of  points.  The  player  who  first  scored  ten  points  won.  It 
was  a  very  difificult  game,  and  one  had  to  be  very  skilful  to 
win. 

Another  popular  game  was  what  with  more  southern  tribes 
is  called  "  hands  "  ;  it  is  like  "  Button,  button,  who's  got  the 
button  ?  "  Two  small,  oblong  bones  were  used,  one  of  which 
had  a  black  ring  around  it.  Those  who  participated  in  this 
game,  numbering  from  two  to  a  dozen,  were  divided  into 
two  equal  parties,  ranged  on  either  side  of  the  lodge. 
Wagers  were  made,  each  person  betting  with  the  one  di- 
rectly opposite  him.  Then  a  man  took  the  bones,  and,  by 
skilfully  moving  his  hands  and  changing  the  objects  from 
one  to  the  other,  sought  to  make  it  impossible  for  the  person 
opposite  him  to  decide  which  hand  held  the  marked  one. 
Ten  points  were  the  game,  counted  by  sticks,  and  the  side 
which  first  got  the  number  took  the  stakes.  A  song  always 
accompanied  this  game,  a  weird,  unearthly  air,  —  if  it  can 
be  so  called,  —  but  when  heard  at  a  litde  distance,  very 
pleasant  and  soothing.  At  first  a  scarcely  audible  murmur, 
like  the  gentle  soughing  of  an  evening  breeze,  it  gradually 
increased  in  volume  and  reached  a  very  high  pitch,  sank 
quickly  to  a  low  bass  sound,  rose  and  fell,  and  gradually 
died  away,  to  be  again  repeated.  The  person  concealing 
the  bones  swayed  his  body,  arms,  and  hands  in  time  to  the 
air,  and  went  through  all  manner  of  graceful  and  intricate 
movements  for  the  purpose  of  confusing  the  guesser.  The 
stakes  were  sometimes  very  high,  two  or  three  horses  or 
more,  and  men  have  been  known  to  lose  everything  they 
possessed,  even  to  their  clothing. 

The  children,  at  least  the  boys,  played  about  and  did  as 


DAILY    LIFE    AND    CUSTOMS 


185 


they  pleased.  Not  so  with  the  girls.  Their  duties  began 
at  a  very  early  age.  They  carried  wood  and  water  for  their 
mothers,  sewed  moccasins,  and  as  soon  as  they  were  strong 
enough,  were  taught  to  tan  robes  and  furs,  make  lodges, 
travois,  and  do  all  other  woman's  —  and  so  menial  —  work. 
'J 'lie  boys  played  at  mimic  warfare,  hunted  around  in  the 
brush  with  their  bows  and  arrows,  made  mud  images  of 
animals,  and  in  summer  spent  about  half  their  time  in  the 
water.  In  winter,  they  spun  tops  on  the  ice,  slid  down  hill 
on  a  contrivance  made  of  buffalo  ribs,  and  hunted  rabbits. 

Shortly  after  noon,  the  hunters  began  to  return,  bringing 
in  deer,  antelope,  buffalo,  elk,  occasionally  bear,  and,  some- 
times, beaver  which  they  had  trapped.  The  camp  began  to 
be  more  lively.  In  all  directions  persons  could  be  heard 
shouting  out  invitations  to  feasts.  Here  a  man  was  lying 
back  on  his  couch  singing  and  drumming  ;  there  a  group  of 
young  men  were  holding  a  war  dance ;  everywhere  the 
people  were  eating,  singing,  talking,  and  joking.  As  the 
light  faded  from  the  western  sky  and  darkness  spread  over 
the  camp,  the  noise  and  laughter  increased.  In  many 
lodges,  the  people  held  social  dances,  the  women,  dressed  in 
their  best  gowns,  ranged  on  one  side,  the  men  on  the  other ; 
all  sung,  and  three  or  four  drummers  furnished  an  accom- 
paniment ;  the  music  was  lively  if  somewhat  jerky.  At 
intervals  the  people  rose  and  danced,  the  "  step "  being 
a  bending  of  the  knees  and  swinging  of  the  body,  the 
women  holding  their  arms  and  hands  in  various  graceful 
positions. 

With  the  night  came  the  rehearsal  of  the  wondrous  doings 
of  the  gods.  These  tales  may  not  be  told  in  the  daytime. 
Old  Man  would  not  like  that,  and  would  cause  any  one  who 
narrated  them  while  it  was  light  to  become  blind.  All 
Indians  are  natural  orators,  but  some  far  exceed  others  in 
their  powers  of  expression.  Their  attitudes,  gestures,  and 
signs  are  so  suggestive  that  they  alone  would  enable  one  to 


■11 


1 86 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


understand  the  stories  they  relate.  I  have  seen  these  story- 
tellers so  much  in  earnest,  so  entirely  carried  away  by  the 
tale  they  were  relating,  that  they  foirly  trembled  with  ex- 
citement. They  held  their  little  audiences  spell-bound. 
The  women  dropped  their  half-sewn  moccasin  from  their 
listless  hands,  and  the  men  let  the  pipe  go  out.  These 
stories  for  the  most  part  were  about  the  ancient  gods  and 
their  miraculous  doings.  They  were  generally  related  by 
the  old  men,  warriors  who  had  seen  their  best  days.  Many 
of  them  are  recorded  in  this  book.  They  are  the  explana- 
tions of  the  phenomena  of  life,  and  contain  many  a  moral 
for  the  instruction  of  youth. 

The  I-ki7n-iih'-kah-/si  contributed  not  a  little  to  the  enter- 
tainment of  every-day  life.  Frequent  dances  were  held  by 
the  different  bands  of  the  society,  and  the  whole  camp 
always  turned  out  to  see  them.  The  animal-head  masks, 
brightly  painted  bodies,  and  queer  performances  were  dear 
to  the  Indian  heart. 

Such  was  the  every-day  life  of  the  Blackfeet  in  the  buffalo 
days.  When  the  camp  moved,  the  women  packed  up  their 
possessions,  tore  down  the  lodges,  and  loaded  everything  on 
the  backs  of  the  ponies  or  on  the  travois.  Meantime  the 
chiefs  had  started  on,  and  the  soldiers —  the  Brave  band  of 
the  I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi  —  followed  after  them.  After  these 
leaders  had  gone  a  short  distance,  a  halt  was  made  to  allow 
the  column  to  close  up.  The  women,  children,  horses,  and 
dogs  of  the  camp  marched  in  a  disorderly,  straggling  fashion, 
often  strung  out  in  a  line  a  mile  or  two  long.  Many  of  the 
men  rode  at  a  considerable  distance  ahead,  and  on  each  side 
of  the  marching  column,  hunting  for  any  game  that  might 
be  found,  or  looking  over  the  country  for  signs  of  enemies. 

Before  the  Blackfeet  obtained  horses  in  the  very  first 
years  of  the  present  century,  and  when  their  only  beasts  of 
burden  were  dogs,  their  possessions  were  transported  by 
these  animals  or  on  men's  backs.     We  may  imagine  that  in 


.f 


J. 


DAILY    LIFE    AND    CUSTOMS 


187 


< 


i 


those  days  the  journeys  made  were  short  ones,  the  camp 
travelling  but  a  few  miles. 

In  moving  the  camp  in  ancient  days,  the  heaviest  and 
bulkiest  things  to  be  transported  were  the  lodges.  These 
were  sometimes  very  large,  often  consisting  ot  thirty  cow- 
skins,  and,  when  set  up,  containing  two  or  three  fires  like 
this     /  ^    ♦   *  \    or  in  ground  plan  like  this  C*^^''^). 

The  skins  of  these  large  lodges  were  sewn  together  in  strips, 
of  which  there  would  be  sometimes  as  many  as  four ;  and, 
when  the  lodge  was  set  up,  these  strips  were  pinned  together 
as  the  front  of  a  common  lodge  is  pinned  to-day.  The  dogs 
carried  the  provisions,  tools,  and  utensils,  sometimes  the 
lodge  strips,  if  these  were  small  enough,  or  anything  that 
WPS  heavy,  and  yet  could  be  packed  in  small  compass ;  for 
si  ice  dogs  are  small  animals,  and  low  standing,  they  cannot 
carry  bulky  burdens.  Still,  some  of  the  dogs  were  large 
enough  to  carry  a  load  of  one  hundred  pounds.  Dogs  also 
hauled  the  travois,  on  which  were  bundles  and  sometimes 
babies.  This  was  not  always  a  safe  means  of  transportation 
for  infants,  as  is  indicated  by  an  incident  related  by  John 
Monroe's  mother  as  having  occurred  in  her  father's  time. 
The  camp,  on  foot  of  course,  was  crossing  a  strip  of  open 
prairie  lying  between  two  pieces  of  timber,  when  a  herd  of 
buffalo,  stampeding,  rushed  through  the  marching  column. 
'i"he  loaded  dogs  rushed  after  the  buffalo,  dragging  the 
travois  after  them  and  scattering  their  loads  over  the  prairie. 
Among  the  lost  chattels  were  two  babies,  dropped  off  some- 
where in  the  long  grass,  which  were  never  found. 

There  were  certain  special  customs  and  beliefs  which 
were  a  part  of  the  every-day  life  of  the  people. 

In  passing  the  pipe  when  smoking,  it  goes  from  the  host, 
who  takes  the  first  smoke,  to  the  left,  passing  from  hand  to 
hand  to  the  door.  It  may  not  be  passed  across  the  door 
to  the  man  on  the  otlier  side,  but  must  come  back,  —  no 
one  smoking,  —  pass  the  host,  and  go  round  to  the  man 


i88 


THE    STORY    OF    THE   THREE    TRIBES 


'-  i 

il 
.|i 


across  the  door  from  the  last  smoker.  This  man  smokes 
and  passes  it  to  the  one  on  his  left,  and  so  it  goes  on  until 
it  reaches  the  host  again.  A  person  entering  a  lodge  where 
people  are  smoking  must  not  pass  in  front  of  them,  that 
is,  between  the  smokers  and  the  fire. 

A  solemn  form  of  affirmation,  the  equivalent  of  the  civil- 
ized oath,  is  connected  with  smoking,  which,  as  is  well  known, 
is  with  many  tribes  of  Indians  a  sacred  ceremony.  If  a  man 
sitting  in  a  lodge  tells  his  companions  some  very  improbable 
story,  something  that  they  find  it  very  hard  to  believe,  and 
they  want  to  test  him,  to  see  if  he  is  really  telling  the  truth, 
the  pipe  is  given  to  a  medicine  man,  who  paints  the  stem 
red  and  prays  over  it,  asking  that  if  the  man's  story  is  true 
he  may  have  long  life,  but  if  it  is  fidsc  his  life  may  end  in  a 
short  time.  The  pipe  is  then  filled  and  lighted,  and  passed 
to  the  man,  who  has  seen  and  overheard  what  has  been  done 
and  said.  The  medicine  man  says  to  him  :  "  Accept  this 
pipe,  but  remember  that,  if  you  smoke,  your  story  must  be 
as  sure  as  that  there  is  a  hole  through  this  pipe,  and  as 
straight  as  the  hole  through  this  stem.  So  your  life  shall 
be  long  and  you  shall  survive,  but  if  you  have  spoken  falsely 
your  days  are  counted."  The  man  may  refuse  the  pipe, 
saying,  "  I  have  told  you  the  truth  ;  it  is  useless  to  smoke 
this  pipe."  If  he  declines  to  smoke,  no  one  believes  what 
he  has  said  ;  he  is  looked  upon  as  having  lied.  If,  however, 
he  takes  the  pipe  and  smokes,  every  one  believes  him.  It 
is  the  most  solemn  form  of  oath.  The  Blackfoot  pipes  are 
usually  made  of  black  or  green  slate  or  sandstone. 

The  Blackfeet  do  not  whip  their  children,  but  still  they 
are  not  without  some  training.  Children  must  be  taught,  or 
they  will  not  know  anything ;  if  they  do  not  know  anything, 
they  will  have  no  sense ;  and  if  they  have  no  sense  they  will 
not  know  how  to  act.  Tliey  are  instructed  in  manners,  as 
well  as  in  other  more  general  and  more  important  matters. 

If  a  number  of  boys  were  in  a  lodge  where  older  people 


i 


i 


DAILY    LIFE    AND    CUSTOMS 


189 


i 


\ 


were  sitting,  very  likely  the  young  people  would  be  talking 
and  laughing  about  their  own  concerns,  and  making  so  much 
noise  that  the  elders  could  say  nothing.  If  this  continued 
too  long,  one  of  the  older  men  would  be  likely  to  get  up 
and  go  out  and  get  a  long  stick  and  bring  it  in  with  him. 
When  he  had  seated  himself,  he  would  hold  it  up,  so  that 
the  children  could  see  it  and  would  repeat  a  cautionary 
formula,  "  I  will  give  you  gum  !  "  This  was  a  warning  to 
them  to  make  less  noise,  and  was  always  heeded  —  for  a 
time.  After  a  little,  however,  the  boys  might  forget  and 
begm  to  chatter  again,  and  presently  the  man,  without  further 
warning,  would  reach  over  and  rap  one  of  them  on  the  head 
with  the  stick,  when  quiet  would  again  be  had  for  a  time. 

In  the  same  way,  in  winter,  when  the  lodge  was  full  of 
old  and  young  people,  and  through  lack  of  attention  the  fire 
died  down,  some  older  person  would  call  out,  "  Look  out  for 
the  skunk  ! "  which  would  be  a  warning  to  the  boys  to  put 
some  sticks  on  the  fire.  If  this  was  not  done  at  once,  the 
man  who  had  called  out  might  throw  a  stick  of  wood  across 
the  lodge  into  the  group  of  children,  hitting  and  hurting  one 
or  more  of  them.  It  was  taught  also  that,  if,  when  young 
and  old  were  in  the  lodge  and  the  fire  had  burned  low,  an 
older  person  were  to  lay  the  unburned  ends  of  the  sticks 
upon  the  fire,  all  the  children  in  the  lodge  would  have  the 
scab,  or  itch.  So,  at  the  call  "  Look  out  for  the  scab  !  "  some 
child  would  always  jump  to  the  fire,  and  lay  up  the  sticks. 

There  were  various  ways  of  teaching  and  training  the 
children.  Men  would  make  long  speeches  to  groups  of 
boys,  playing  in  the  camps,  telling  them  what  they  ought  to 
do  to  be  successful  in  life.  They  would  point  out  to  them 
that  to  accomplish  anything  they  must  be  brave  and  untiring 
in  war ;  that  long  life  was  not  desirable  ;  that  the  old  people 
always  had  a  hard  time,  were  given  the  worst  side  of  the 
lodge  and  generally  neglected  ;  that  when  the  camp  was 
moved  they  suffered  from  cold  ;  that  their  sight  was  dim,  so 


f 


190 


THE    STOKV    OF    THE    TIIKKK    TRIBES 


! 


that  they  could  not  see  far;  that  their  teeth  were  gone,  so  that 
they  could  not  chew  their  food.  Only  discomfort  and  misery 
await  the  old.  Much  better,  while  the  body  is  strong  and  in 
its  prime,  while  the  sight  is  clear,  the  teeth  sound,  and  the 
hair  still  black  and  long,  to  die  in  battle  fighting  bravely. 
The  example  of  successful  warriors  would  be  held  up  to 
them,  and  the  boys  urged  to  enuilate  their  brave  deeds. 
To  such  advice  some  boys  would  listen,  while  others  would 
not  heed  it. 

The  girls  also  were  instructed.  All  Indians  like  to 
see  women  more  or  less  sober  and  serious-minded,  not 
giggling  all  the  time,  not  silly.  A  Blackfoot  man  who  had 
two  or  three  girls  would,  as  they  grew  large,  often  talk  to 
them  and  give  them  good  advice.  After  watching  them, 
and  taking  the  measure  of  their  characters,  he  would  one 
day  get  a  buffalo's  front  foot  and  ornament  it  fantastically 
with  feathers.  When  the  time  came,  he  would  call  one  of 
his  daughters  to  him  and  say  to  her :  **  Now  I  wish  you  to 
stand  here  in  front  of  me  and  look  me  straight  in  the  eye 
without  laughing.  No  matter  what  I  may  do,  do  not  laugh." 
Then  he  would  sing  a  funny  song,  shaking  the  foot  in  the 
girl's  face  in  time  to  the  song,  and  looking  her  steadily  in 
the  eye.  Very  likely  before  he  had  finished,  she  would 
begin  to  giggle.  If  she  did  this,  the  fother  would  stop  sing- 
ing and  tell  her  to  finish  laughing  ;  and  when  she  was  serious 
again,  he  would  again  warn  her  not  to  laugh,  and  then  would 
repeat  his  song.  This  time  j^erhaps  she  would  not  laugh 
while  he  was  singing.  He  would  go  through  with  this  same 
jierformance  before  all  his  daughters.  To  such  as  seemed 
to  have  the  steadiest  characters,  he  would  give  good  ad /ice. 
He  would  talk  to  each  girl  of  the  duties  of  a  woman's  life 
and  warn  her  against  the  dangers  which  she  might  expect 
to  meet. 

At  the  time  of  the  Medicine  Lodge,  he  would  take  her  to 
the  lodge  and  point  out  to  her  the  Medicine  Lodge  woman. 


I 


m 


DAILY    I.IKE    AND    CUSTOMS 


191 


He  would  say  :  "There  is  a  good  woman.  She  has  built  this 
ISledicine  Lodge,  and  is  greatly  honored  and  respected  by  all 
the  people.  Once  she  was  a  girl  just  like  you  ;  and  you,  if 
you  are  good  and  live  a  pure  life,  may  some  day  be  as  great 
as  she  is  now.  Remember  this,  and  try  to  live  a  worthy 
life." 

At  the  time  of  the  Medicine  Lodge,  the  boys  in  the  camp 
also  gathered  to  see  the  young  men  count  their  coups.  A 
man  would  get  up,  holding  in  one  hand  a  bundle  of  small 
sticks,  and,  taking  one  stick  from  the  bundle,  he  would  re- 
count some  brave  deed,  throwing  away  a  stick  as  he  com- 
pleted the  narrative  of  each  coup,  until  the  sticks  were  all 
gone,  when  he  sat  down,  and  another  man  stood  up  to  begin 
his  recital.  As  the  boys  saw  and  heard  all  this,  and  saw 
how  respected  those  men  were  who  had  done  the  most  and 
bravest  things,  they  said  to  themselves,  "That  man  was  once 
a  boy  like  us,  and  we,  if  we  have  strong  hearts,  may  do  as  much 
as  he  has  done."  So  even  the  very  small  boys  used  often  to 
steal  off  from  the  camp,  and  follow  war  parties.  Often  they 
went  without  the  knowledge  of  their  parents,  and  poorly 
provided,  without  food  or  extra  moccasins.  They  would 
get  to  the  enemy's  camp,  watch  the  ways  of  the  young  men, 
and  so  learn  about  going  to  war,  how  to  act  when  on  the  war 
trail  so  as  to  be  successful.  Also  they  came  to  know  the 
country. 

The  Blackfeet  men  often  went  off  by  themselves  to  fast 
and  dream  for  power.  By  no  means  every  one  did  this,  and, 
of  those  who  attempted  it,  only  a  few  endured  to  the  end,  — 
that  is,  fasted  ^he  whole  four  days,  —  and  obtained  the  help 
sought.  The  attempt  was  not  usually  made  by  young  boys 
before  they  had  gone  on  their  first  war  journey.  It  was 
often  undertaken  by  men  who  were  quite  mature.  Those 
who  underwent  this  suffering  were  obliged  to  abstain  from 
food  or  drink  for  four  days  and  four  nights,  resting  for  two 
nights  on  the  right  side,  and  for  two  nights  on  the  left.     It 


192 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRUiES 


u 


1      !! 


was  deemed  essential  that  the  place  to  which  a  man  re- 
sorted for  this  purpose  should  be  unfretiuented,  where  few 
or  no  persons  had  walked ;  and  it  must  also  be  a  place  that 
tried  the  nerve,  where  there  was  some  danger.  Such  situa- 
tions were  mountain  peaks  ;  or  narrow  ledges  on  cut  cliffs, 
where  a  careless  movement  might  cause  a  man  to  fall  to  his 
death  on  the  rocks  below ;  or  islands  in  lakes,  which  could 
only  be  reached  by  means  of  a  raft,  and  where  there  was 
danger  that  a  person  might  be  seized  and  carried  off  by  the 
STi'-yl'  tiip'-pi,  or  Under  Water  People  ;  or  places  where  the 
dead  had  been  buried,  and  where  there  was  much  danger 
from  ghosts.  Or  a  man  might  lie  in  a  well-worn  buffalo  trail, 
where  the  animals  were  frecjuently  passing,  and  so  he  might 
be  trodden  on  by  a  travelling  band  of  buffalo  ;  or  he  might 
choose  a  locality  where  bears  were  abundant  and  dangerous. 
Wherever  he  went,  the  man  built  himself  a  little  lodge  of 
brush,  moss,  and  leaves,  to  keep  off  the  rain  ;  and,  after 
making  his  prayers  to  the  sun  and  singing  his  sacred  songs, 
he  crept  into  the  hut  and  began  his  fast.  He  was  not  al- 
lowed to  take  any  covering  with  him,  nor  to  roof  over  his 
shelter  with  skins.  He  always  had  with  him  a  pipe,  and 
this  lay  by  him,  filled,  so  that,  when  the  spirit,  or  dream,  came, 
it  could  smoke.  They  did  not  appeal  to  any  special  class 
of  helpers,  but  prayed  to  all  alike.  Often  by  the  end  of  the 
fourth  day,  a  secret  helper  —  usually,  but  by  no  means  always, 
in  the  form  of  some  animal  —  ajipeared  to  the  man  in  a  dream, 
and  talked  with  him,  advising  him,  marking  out  his  course 
through  life,  and  giving  him  its  ])ower.  There  were  some, 
however,  on  whom  the  power  would  not  work,  and  a  much 
greater  number  who  gave  up  the  fast,  discouraged,  before  the 
prescribed  time  had  been  completed,  either  not  being  able 
to  endure  the  lack  of  food  and  water,  or  being  frightened 
by  the  strangeness  or  loneliness  of  their  surroundings,  or  by 
something  that  they  thought  they  saw  or  heard.  It  was  no 
disgrace  to  fail,  nor  was  the  failure  necessarily  known,  for 


^M 


DAII.V    LIFE    AND    CUSTOMS 


193 


the  seeker  after  power  did  not  always,  nor  perhaps  often, 
tell  any  one  what  he  was  going  to  do. 

Three  modes  of  burial  were  practised  by  the  Blackfeet. 
They  buried  their  dead  on  platforms  placed  in  trees,  on 
platforms  in  lodges,  and  on  the  ground  in  lodges.  If  a  man 
dies  in  a  lodge,  it  is  never  used  again.  The  people  would  be 
afraid  of  the  man's  ghost.  The  lodge  is  often  used  to  wrap 
the  body  in,  or  perhaps  the  man  may  be  buried  in  it. 

As  soon  as  a  person  is  dead,  be  it  man,  woman,  or  child, 
the  body  is  immediately  prepared  for  burial,  by  the  nearest 
female  relations.  Until  recently,  the  corpse  was  wrapped 
in  a  number  of  robes,  then  in  a  lodge  covering,  laced  with 
rawhide  ropes,  and  placed  on  a  platform  of  lodge  poles, 
arranged  on  the  branches  of  some  convenient  tree.  Some 
times  the  outer  wrapping  —  the  lodge  covering  —  was 
omitted.  If  the  deceased  was  a  man,  his  weapons,  and 
often  his  medicine,  were  buried  with  him.  With  women 
a  few  cooking  utensils  and  implements  for  tanning  robes 
were  placed  on  the  scaffolds.  When  a  man  was  buried  on  a 
j)latform  in  a  lodge,  the  platform  was  usually  suspended  from 
the  lodge  poles. 

Sometimes,  when  a  great  chief  or  noted  warrior  died,  his 
lodge  would  be  moved  some  little  distance  from  the  camp, 
and  set  up  in  a  patch  of  brush.  It  would  be  carefully  pegged 
down  all  around,  and  stones  piled  on  the  edges  to  make  it 
additionally  firm.  For  still  greater  security,  a  rope  fastened 
to  the  lodge  poles,  where  they  come  together  at  the  smoke 
hole,  came  down,  and  was  securely  tied  to  a  peg  in  the 
ground  in  the  centre  of  the  lodge,  where  the  fireplace  would 
ordinarily  be.  Then  the  beds  were  made  up  all  around  the 
lodge,  and  on  one  of  them  was  placed  the  corpse,  lying  as  if 
asleep.  The  man's  weapons,  pipe,  war  clothing,  and  medi- 
cine were  placed  near  him,  and  the  door  then  closed.  No 
one  ever  again  entered  such  a  lodge.  Outside  the  lodge,  a 
number  of  his  horses,  often  twenty  or  more,  were  killed,  so 


194 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


that  he  might  have  plenty  to  ride  on  his  journey  to  the 
Sand  Hills,  and  to  use  after  arriving  there.  If  a  man  had  a 
favorite  horse,  he  might  order  it  to  be  killed  at  his  grave,  and 
his  order  was  always  carried  out.  In  ancient  times,  it  is 
said,  dogs  were  killed  at  the  grave. 

Women  mourn  for  deceased  relations  by  cutting  their  hair 
short.  For  the  loss  of  a  husband  or  son  (but  not  a  daughter) , 
they  not  only  cut  their  hair,  but  often  take  off  one  or  more 
joints  of  their  fingers,  and  always  scarify  the  calves  of  their 
legs.  Besides  this,  for  a  month  or  so,  they  daily  repair  to 
some  place  near  camp,  generally  a  hill  or  little  rise  of  ground, 
and  there  cry  and  lament,  calling  the  name  of  the  deceased 
over  and  over  again.  This  may  be  called  a  chant  or  song, 
for  there  is  a  certain  tune  to  it.  It  is  in  a  minor  key  and 
very  doleful.  Any  one  hearing  it  for  the  first  time,  even 
though  wholly  unacquainted  with  Indian  customs,  would  at 
once  know  that  it  was  a  mourning  song,  or  at  least  was  the 
utterance  of  one  in  deep  distress.  There  is  no  fixcil  period 
for  the  length  of  time  one  must  mourn.  Some  keep  up  this 
daily  lament  for  a  few  weeks  only,  and  others  much  longer. 
I  once  came  across  an  old  wrinkled  woman,  who  was 
crouched  in  the  sage  brush,  crying  and  lamenting  for  some 
one,  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  On  incpiiring  if  any  one 
had  lately  died,  I  was  told  she  was  mourning  for  a  son  she 
had  lost  more  than  twenty  years  before. 

Men  mourn  by  cutting  a  little  of  their  hair,  going  without 
leggings,  and  for  the  loss  of  a  son,  sometimes  scarify  their 
legs.  This  last,  however,  is  never  done  for  the  loss  of  a  wife, 
daughter,  or  any  relative  except  a  son. 

Many  Blackfeet  change  their  names  every  season.  When- 
ever a  Blackfoot  counts  a  new  ctn//>,  he  is  entitled  to  a  new 
name.  A  Blackfoot  will  never  tell  his  name  if  he  can  avoid 
it.  He  believes  that  if  he  should  speak  his  name,  he  would 
be  unfortunate  in  all  his  undertakings. 


I 


DAILY    LIFE   ANP    CUSTOMS 


'95 


It  was  considered  a  gross  breach  of  propriety  for  a  man 
to  meet  his  mother-in-law,  and  if  by  any  mischance  he  did 
so,  or  what  was  worse,  if  he  spoke  to  her,  she  demanded  a 
very  heavy  payment,  which  he  was  obliged  to  make.  The 
mother-in-law  was  equally  anxious  to  avoid  meetmg  or 
speaking  to  her  son-in-law. 


HOW   THE    BLACKFOOT   LIVED 


The  primitive  clothing  of  the  Blackfeet  was  made  of  the 
dressed  skins  of  certain  animals.  Women  seldom  wore  a 
head  covering.  Men,  however,  in  winter  generally  used 
a  cap  made  of  the  skin  of  some  small  animal,  such  as  the 
antelope,  wolf,  badger,  or  coyote.  As  the  skin  from  the 
head  of  these  animals  often  formed  part  of  the  cap,  the 
ears  being  left  on,  it  made  a  very  odd-looking  head-dress. 
Sometimes  a  cap  was  made  of  the  skin  of  some  large  bird, 
such  as  the  sage-hen,  duck,  owl,  or  swan. 

The  ancient  dress  of  the  women  was  a  shirt  of  cowskin, 
with  long  sleeves  tied  at  the  wrist,  a  skirt  reaching  half-way 
from  knees  to  ankles,  and  leggings  tied  above  the  knees,  with 
sometimes  a  supporting  string  running  from  the  belt  to  the 
leggings.  In  more  modern  times,  this  was  modified,  and  a 
woman's  dress  consisted  of  a  gown  or  smock,  reaching  from 
the  neck  to  below  the  knees.  There  were  no  sleeves,  the 
armholes  being  provided  with  top  coverings,  a  sort  of  cape 
or  flap,  which  reached  to  the  elbows.  Leggings  were  of 
course  still  worn.  They  reached  to  the  knee,  and  were 
generally  made,  as  was  the  gown,  of  the  tanned  skins  of  elk, 
(leer,  sheep,  or  antelope.  Moccasins  for  winter  use  were 
made  of  buffiilo  robe,  and  of  tanned  buffiilo  cowskin  for 
summer  wear.  The  latter  were  always  made  with  parfleche 
soles,  which  greatly  increased  their  durability,  and  were  often 
ornamented  over  the  instep  or  toes  with  a  three-pronged 
figure,  worked  in  porcupine  (juills  or  beads,  the  three  prongs 
representing,  it  is  said,  the  three  divisions  or  tribes  of  the 
196 


I 


m 


HOW    THE    BLACKFOOT    LIVED 


197 


nation.  The  men  wore  a  shirt,  breech-clout,  leggings  which 
reached  to  the  thighs,  and  moccasins.  In  winter  both  men 
and  women  wore  a  robe  of  tanned  buffiilo  skin,  and  some- 
times of  beaver.  In  summer  a  lighter  robe  was  worn,  made 
of  cowskin  or  buckskin,  from  which  the  hair  had  been 
removed.  Both  sexes  wore  belts,  which  supported  and 
confined  the  clothing,  and  to  which  were  attached  knife- 
sheaths  and  other  useful  articles. 

Necklaces  and  ear-rings  were  worn  by  all,  and  were  made 
of  shells,  bone,  wood,  and  the  teeth  and  claws  of  animals. 
Elk  tushes  were  highly  prized,  and  were  used  for  ornament- 
ing women's  dresses.  A  gown  profusely  decorated  with 
them  was  worth  two  good  horses.  Eagle  feathers  were  used 
by  the  men  to  make  head-dresses  and  to  ornament  shields 
and  also  weapons.  Small  bunches  of  owl  or  grouse  feathers 
were  sometimes  tied  to  the  scalp  locks.  It  is  doubtful  if  the 
women  ever  took  particular  care  of  their  hair.  The  men, 
however,  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  brushing,  braiding,  and 
ornamenting  their  scalp  locks.  Their  hair  was  usually  worn 
in  two  braids,  one  on  eacli  side  of  the  head.  Less  fre- 
quently, four  braids  were  made,  one  behind  and  in  front  of 
each  ear.  Sometimes,  the  liair  of  the  forehead  was  cut  off 
square,  and  brushed  straight  up  ;  and  not  infrequently  it  was 
made  into  a  huge  toj^knot  and  wound  with  otter  fur.  Often 
a  slender  lock,  wound  with  brass  wire  or  braided,  hung  down 
from  one  side  of  the  forehead  over  the  face. 

As  a  rule,  the  men  are  tall,  straight,  and  well  formed. 
Their  features  are  regular,  the  eyes  being  large  and  well  set, 
and  the  nose  generally  moderately  large,  straight,  and  thin. 
Their  chests  are  splendidly  developed.  The  women  are 
quite  tall  for  their  sex,  but,  as  a  rule,  not  so  good-looking  as 
the  men.  Their  hands  are  large,  coarse,  and  knotted  by 
hard  labor ;  and  they  early  become  wrinkled  and  careworn. 
They  generally  have  splendid  constitutions.  I  have  known 
them  to  resume  work  a  day  after  childbirth ;  and  once,  when 


198 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


travelling,  I  knew  a  woman  to  halt,  give  birth  to  a  child,  and 
catch  up  with  the  camp  inside  of  four  hours. 

As  a  rule,  children  are  hardy  and  vigorous.  They  are 
allowed  to  do  abcait  as  they  please  from  the  time  they  are 
able  to  walk.  I  have  often  seen  them  playing  in  winter  in 
the  snow,  and  spinning  tops  on  the  ice,  barefooted  and  half- 
naked.  Under  such  conditions,  those  which  have  feeble 
constitutions  soon  die.  Only  the  hardiest  reach  maturity 
and  old  age. 

It  is  said  that  very  long  ago  the  people  made  houses  of 
mud,  sticks,  and  stones.  It  is  not  known  what  was  their 
size  or  shape,  and  no  traces  of  them  are  known  to  have  been 
found.  For  a  very  long  time,  the  lodge  seems  to  have  been 
their  only  dwelling.  In  ancient  times,  before  they  had 
knives  of  metal,  stones  were  used  to  hold  down  the  edges  of 
the  lodge,  to  keep  it  from  being  blown  away.  These  varied 
in  size  from  six  inches  to  a  foot  or  more  in  diameter. 
Everywhere  on  the  prairie,  one  may  now  see  circles  of  these 
stones,  and,  within  these  circles,  the  smaller  ones,  which  sur- 
rounded the  fireplace.  Some  of  them  have  lain  so  long  that 
only  the  tops  now  project  above  the  turf,  and  undoubtedly 
many  of  them  are  buried  out  of  sight. 

Lodges  were  always  made  of  tanned  cowskin,  nicely  cut 
and  sewn  together,  so  as  to  form  an  almost  perfect  cone. 
At  the  top  were  two  large  flaps,  called  ears,  which  were  kept 
extended  or  closed,  according  to  the  direction  and  strength 
of  the  wind,  to  create  a  draft  and  keep  the  lodge  free  from 
smoke.  The  lodge  covering  was  supported  by  light,  straight 
pine  or  spnice  poles,  about  eighteen  of  which  were  required. 
Twelve  cowskins  made  a  lotlge  about  fourteen  feet  in  di- 
ameter at  the  base,  and  ten  feet  high.  I  have  heard  of  a 
modern  one  which  contained  forty  skins.  It  was  over  thirty 
feet  in  diameter,  and  was  so  heavy  that  the  skins  were  sewn 
in  two  pieces  which  buttoned  together. 

An  average-sized  dwelling  of  this  kind  contained  eighteen 


HOW    THE    HLACKFOOT    LIVED 


199 


) 


\ 

4 


skins  and  was  about  sixteen  feet  in  diameter.  The  lower 
edge  of  the  lodge  proper  was  fastened,  by  wooden  pegs,  to 
within  an  inch  or  two  of  the  ground.  Inside,  a  lining,  made 
of  brightly  painted  cowskin,  reached  from  the  ground  to  a 
height  of  five  or  six  feet.  An  air  space  of  the  thickness  of  the 
lodge  poles  —  two  or  three  inches  —  was  thus  left  between 
the  lining  and  the  lodge  covering,  and  the  cold  air,  rushing 
up  through  it  from  the  outside,  made  a  draft,  which  aided 
the  ears  in  freeing  the  lodge  of  smoke.  The  door  was  three 
or  four  feet  high  and  was  covered  by  a  flap  of  skin,  which 
hung  down  on  the  outside.  Thus  made,  with  plenty  of 
buffalo  robes  for  seats  and  bedding,  and  a  good  stock  of 
firewood,  a  lodge  was  very  comfortable,  even  in  the  coldest 
weather. 

It  was  not  uncommon  to  decorate  the  outside  of  the 
lodge  with  buffalo  tails  and  brightly  painted  pictures  of 
animals.  Inside,  the  space  around  was  partitioned  off  into 
couches,  or  seats,  each  about  six  feet  in  length.  At  the  foot 
and  head  of  every  couch,  a  mat,  made  of  straight,  peeled  wil- 
low twigs,  fastened  side  by  side,  was  suspended  on  a  tripod  at 
an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  so  that  between  the  couches 
spaces  were  left  like  an  inverted  V,  thus  A,  making  con- 
venient places  to  store  articles  which  were  not  in  use.  The_ 
owner  of  the  lodge  always  occupied  the  seat  or  couch  at  the 
back  of  the  lodge,  directly  opposite  the  door-way,  the  places 
on  his  right  being  occupied  by  his  wives  and  daughters ; 
though  sometimes  a  Blackfoot  had  so  many  wives  that  they 
occupied  the  whole  lodge.  The  places  on  his  left  were  re- 
served for  his  sons  and  visitors.  When  a  visitor  entered  a 
lodge,  he  was  assigned  a  seat  according  to  his  rank, — the 
nearer  to  the  host,  the  greater  the  honor. 

Bows  were  generally  made  of  ash  wood,  which  grows  east 
of  the  mountains  toward  the  Sand  Hills.  When  for  any 
reason  they  could  not  obtain  ash,  they  used  the  wood  of 
the  choke-cherry  tree,  but  this  had  not  strength  nor  spring 


200 


THE    STORY    OV    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


enough  to  be  of  much  service.  I  have  been  told  also  that 
sometimes  they  used  hazle  wood  for  bows. 

Arrows  were  made  of  shoots  of  the  sarvis  berry  wood, 
which  was  straight,  very  heavy,  and  not  brittle.  They  were 
smoothed  and  straightened  by  a  stone  implement.  The 
grooves  were  made  by  pushing  the  shafts  through  a  rib  or 
other  flat  bone  in  which  had  been  made  a  hole,  circular 
except  for  one  or  two  projections  on  the  inside.  These 
projections  worked  out  the  groove.  The  object  of  these 
grooves  is  said  to  have  been  to  allow  the  blood  to  flow 
freely.  Each  man  marked  his  arrows  by  painting  them,  or 
by  some  special  combination  of  colored  feathers.  The 
arrow  heads  were  of  two  kinds,  —  barbed  slender  points  for 
war,  and  barbless  for  hunting.  Knives  were  originally  made 
of  stone,  as  were  also  war  clubs,  mauls,  and  some  of  the 
scrapers  for  fleshing  and  graining  hides.  Some  of  the  flint 
knives  were  long,  others  short.  A  stick  was  fitted  to  them, 
forming  a  wooden  handle.  The  handles  of  mauls  and  war 
clubs  were  usually  made  of  green  sticks  fitted  as  closely  as 
])ossible  into  a  groove  made  in  the  stone,  the  whole  being 
bound  together  by  a  covering  of  hide  put  on  green,  tightly 
fitted  and  strongly  sewed.  This,  as  it  shrunk  in  drying, 
bound  the  different  parts  of  the  implement  together  in  the 
strongest  possible  manner.  Short,  heavy  spears  were  used, 
the  points  being  of  stone  or  bone,  barbed. 

I  have  heard  no  explanation  among  the  Blackfeet  of  the 
origin  of  fire.  In  ancient  times,  it  was  obtained  by  means  of 
fire  sticks,  as  described  elsewhere.  The  starting  of  the  spark 
with  these  sticks  is  said  to  have  been  hard  work.  At  almost 
their  first  meeting  with  the  whites,  they  obtained  flints  and 
steels,  and  learned  how  to  use  them. 

In  ancient  times,  —  in  the  days  of  fire  sticks  and  even 
later,  within  the  memory  of  men  now  living,  —  '^•■eused  to  be 
carried  from  place  to  place  in  a  "  fire  horn."  This  was  a 
buffalo  horn  slung  by  a  string  over  the  shoulder  like  a  pow- 


HOW    THE    15LACKF00T    LIVED 


20 1 


r 
t 


der  horn.  The  horn  was  hned  with  moist,  rotten  wood,  and 
the  open  end  had  a  wooden  stopper  or  plug  fitted  to  it.  On 
leaving  camp  in  the  morning,  the  man  who  carried  the  horn 
took  from  the  fire  a  small  live  coal  and  put  it  in  the  horn, 
and  on  this  coal  placed  a  piece  of  punk,  and  then  plugged 
up  the  horn  with  the  stopper.  The  punk  smouldered  in 
this  almost  air-tight  chamber,  and,  in  the-  course  of  two  or 
three  hours,  the  man  looked  at  it,  and  if  it  was  nearly  con- 
sumed, put  another  piece  of  punk  in  the  horn.  The  first 
young  men  who  reached  the  appointed  camping  ground 
would  gather  two  or  three  large  piles  of  wood  in  different 
places,  and  as  soon  as  some  one  who  carried  a  fire  horn 
reached  camp,  he  turned  out  his  spark  at  one  of  these  piles 
of  wood,  and  a  little  blowing  and  nursing  gave  a  blaze 
which  started  the  fire.  The  other  fires  were  kindled  from 
this  first  one,  and  when  the  women  reached  camp  and  had 
put  the  lodges  up,  they  went  to  these  fires,  and  got  coals 
with  which  to  start  those  in  their  lodges.  This  custom  of 
borrowing  coals  persisted  up  to  the  last  days  of  the  buffalo, 
and  indeed  may  even  be  noticed  still. 

The  punk  here  mentioned  is  a  fungus,  which  grows  on  the 
birch  tree.  The  Indians  used  to  gather  this  in  large  quanti- 
ties and  dry  it.  It  was  very  abundant  at  the  Touchwood 
Hills  (whence  the  name)  on  Beaver  Creek,  a  tributary  of 
the  Saskatchewan  from  the  south. 

The  Blackfeet  made  buckets,  cups,  basins,  and  dishes 
from  the  lining  of  the  buffalo's  paunch.  This  was  torn  off  in 
large  pieces,  and  was  stretched  over  a  flattened  willow  or 
cherry  hoop  at  the  bottom  and  top.  These  hoops  were 
sometimes  inside  and  sometimes  outside  the  bucket  or  dish. 
In  the  latter  case,  the  hoop  at  the  bottom  was  often  sewed 
to  the  paunch,  which  came  down  over  it,  double  on  the  out- 
side, the  needle  holes  being  pitched  with  gum  or  tallow. 
The  hoop  at  the  upper  edge  was  also  sewed  to  the  paunch, 
and  a  rawhide  bail  passed  under  it,  to  carry  it  by. 


202 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


These  buckets  were  shaped  somewhat  Hke  our  wooden 
ones,  and  were  of  different  sizes,  some  of  them  holding  four 
or  five  gallons.  They  were  more  or  less  flexible,  and  when 
carried  in  a  pack,  they  could  be  flattened  down  like  a  crush 
hat,  and  so  took  up  but  litde  room.  If  set  on  the  ground 
when  full,  they  would  stand  up  for  a  while,  but  as  they  soon 
softened  and  fell  down,  they  were  usually  hung  up  by  the 
bail  on  a  little  tripod.  Cups  were  made  in  the  same  way  as 
buckets,  but  on  a  smaller  scale  and  without  the  bail.  Of 
course,  nothing  hot  could  be  placed  in  these  vessels. 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  Blackfeet  ever  made  any  pottery 
or  basket  ware.  They,  however,  made  bowls  and  kettles  of 
stone.  There  is  an  ancient  children's  song  which  consists  of 
a  series  of  questions  asked  an  elk,  and  its  replies  to  the  same. 
In  one  place,  the  questioner  sings,  "  Elk,  what  is  your  bowl 
(or  dish)  ?  "  and  the  elk  answers,  "  Ok-zoi-^ok-so-ka,''  stone 
bowl.  On  this  point,  \V'olf  Calf,  a  very  old  man,  states  that 
in  early  days  the  Blackfeet  sometimes  boiled  their  meat  in  a 
stone  bowl  made  out  of  a  hard  clayey  rock.'  Choosing 
a  fragment  of  the  right  size  and  shape,  they  would  pound  it 
with  another  heavier  rock,  dealing  light  blows  until  a  hollow 
had  been  made  in  the  top.  This  hollow  was  made  deeper 
by  pounding  and  grinding  ;  and  when  it  was  deep  enough, 
they  put  water  in  it,  and  set  it  on  the  fire,  and  the  water 
would  boil.  These  pots  were  strong  and  would  last  a  long 
time.  I  do  not  remember  that  any  other  tribe  of  Plains 
Indians  made  such  stone  bowls  or  mortars,  though,  of 
course,  they  were  commonly  made,  and  in  singular  perfec- 
tion, by  the  Pacific  Coast  tribes  ;  and  I  have  known  of  rare 
cases  in  which  basalt  mortars  and  small  soapstone  ollas  have 
been  found  on  the  central  plateau  of  the  continent  in 
southern  Wyoming.  These  articles,  however,  had  no  doubt 
been  obtained  by  trade  from  Western  tribes. 

Serviceable  ladles  and  spoons  were  made  of  wood  and  of 


1  See  The  Blaekfoot  Genesis,  p.  141. 


HOW    THE    RLACKFOOT    LIVED 


203 


I 


buffalo  and  mountain  sheep  horn.  Basins  or  flat  dishes 
were  sometimes  made  of  mountain  sheep  horn,  boiled,  split, 
and  flattened,  and  also  of  split  buffalo  horn,  fitted  and  sewn 
together  with  sinew,  making  a  flaring,  saucer-shaped  dish. 
These  were  used  as  plates  or  eating  dishes.  Of  course, 
they  leaked  a  little,  for  the  joints  were  not  tight.  Wooden 
bowls  and  dishes  were  made  from  knots  and  protuberances 
of  trees,  dug  out  and  smoothed  by  fire  and  the  knife  or  by 
the  latter  alone. 

It  is  not  known  that  these  people  ever  made  spears,  hooks, 
or  other  implements  for  capturing  fish.  They  appear  never 
to  have  used  boats  of  any  kind,  not  even  '"bull  boats." 
Their  highest  idea  of  navigation  was  to  lash  together  a  few 
sticks  or  logs,  on  which  to  transport  their  possessions  across 
a  river. 

Red,  brown,  yellow,  and  white  paints  were  made  by  burn- 
ing clays  of  these  colors,  which  were  then  pulverized  and 
mixed  with  a  little  grease.  Black  paint  was  made  of  charred 
wood. 

Bags  and  sacks  were  made  of  parfleche,  usually  orna- 
mented with  buckskin  fringe,  and  painted  with  various  de- 
signs in  bright  colors.  Figures  having  sharp  angles  are 
most  common. 

The  diet  of  the  Blackfeet  was  more  varied  than  one  would 
think.  Large  quantities  of  sarvis  berries  {Ainelanchicr 
alnifoUa)  were  gathered  whenever  there  was  a  crop  (which 
occurs  every  other  year),  dried,  and  stored  for  future  use. 
These  were  gathered  by  women,  who  collected  the  branches 
laden  with  ripe  fruit,  and  beat  them  over  a  robe  spread  upon 
the  ground.  Choke-cherries  were  also  gathered  when  ripe, 
and  pounded  up,  stones  and  all.  A  bushel  of  the  fruit,  after 
being  pounded  up  and  dried,  was  reduced  to  a  very  small 
quantity.  This  food  was  sometimes  eaten  by  itself,  but 
more  often  was  used  to  flavor  soups  and  to  mix  with  pem- 
mican.     Bull  berries  {Shcphcrdia  urge  11  tea)  were  a  favorite 


204 


THE    STORV    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


i 


1,       1 


I 


fruit,  and  were  gathered  in  large  quantities,  as  was  also  the 
white  berry  of  the  red  willow.  This  last  is  an  exceedingly 
bitter,  acrid  fruit,  and  to  the  taste  of  most  white  men  wholly 
unpleasant  and  repugnant.  The  Blackfeet,  however,  are 
very  fond  of  it ;  perhaps  because  it  contains  some  property 
necessary  to  the  nourishment  of  the  body,  which  is  lacking 
in  their  every-day  food. 

The  camas  root,  which  grt)ws  abundantly  in  certain  locali- 
ties on  the  east  slope  of  the  Rockies,  was  also  dug,  cooked, 
and  dried.  The  bulbs  were  roasted  in  pits,  as  by  the  In- 
dians on  the  west  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  Ka- 
lispels,  and  others.  It  is  gathered  while  in  the  bloom  — 
June  15  to  July  15.  A  large  pit  is  dug  in  which  a  hot  fire 
is  built,  the  bottom  being  first  lined  with  fiat  stones.  After 
keeping  up  this  fire  for  several  hours,  until  the  stones  and 
earth  are  thoroughly  heated,  the  coals  and  ashes  are  re- 
moved. The  pit  is  then  lined  with  grass,  and  is  filled  almost 
to  the  top  with  camas  bulbs.  Over  these,  grass  is  laid,  then 
twigs,  and  then  earth  to  a  depth  of  four  inches.  On  this  a 
fire  is  built,  which  is  kept  up  for  from  one  to  three  days, 
according  to  the  quantity  of  the  bulbs  in  the  pit. 

When  the  pit  is  opened,  the  small  children  gather  about 
it  to  suck  the  syrup,  which  has  collected  on  the  twigs  and 
grass,  and  which  is  very  sweet.  The  fresh-roasted  camas 
tastes  something  like  a  roasted  chestnut,  with  a  little  of  the 
flavor  of  the  sweet  potato.  After  being  cooked,  the  roots 
are  spread  out  in  the  sun  to  dry,  and  are  then  put  in  sacks 
to  be  stored  away.  Sometimes  a  few  are  pounded  up  with 
sarvis  berries,  and  dried. 

Bitter-root  is  gathered,  dried,  and  boiled  with  a  little 
sugar.  It  is  a  slender  root,  an  inch  or  two  long  and  as 
thick  as  a  goose  quill,  white  in  color,  and  looking  like  short 
lengths  of  spaghetti.     It  is  very  starchy. 

In  the  spring,  a  certain  root  called  nia/s  was  eaten  in 
great  quantities.     This  plant  was  known  to  the  early  French 


HOW    THE    BLACKFOOT    LIVED 


205 


employees  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  cind  American  Fur  Compa- 
nies di-a  pomme  blanche  {Psoraka  cscn/eiita). 
>  All  parts  of  such  animals  as  the  buffalo,  elk,  deer,  etc., 
were  eaten,  save  only  the  lungs,  gall,  and  one  or  two  other 
organs.  A  favorite  way  of  eating  the  paunch  or  stomach  was 
in  the  raw  state.  Liver,  too,  was  sometimes  eaten  raw.  The 
unborn  calf  of  a  fresh-killed  animal,  especially  buffalo,  was 
considered  a  great  delicacy.  The  meat  of  this,  when  boiled, 
is  white,  tasteless,  and  insipid.  The  small  intestines  of  the 
buffalo  were  sometimes  dried,  but  more  often  were  stuffed 
with  long,  thii.  strips  of  meat.  During  the  stuffing  process, 
the  entrail  was  turned  inside  out,  thus  confining  with  the 
meat  the  sweet  white  flit  that  covers  the  intestine.  The 
next  step  was  to  roast  it  a  little,  after  which  the  ends  were 
tied  to  prevent  the  escape  of  the  juices,  and  it  was  thor- 
oughly boiled  in  water.  This  is  a  very  great  delicacy,  and 
when  properly  pi  epared  is  equally  appreciated  by  whites  and 
Indians. 

As  a  rule,  there  were  but  two  ways  of  cooking  meat, — 
boiling  and  roasting.-  If  roasted,  it  was  thoroughly  cooked ; 
but  if  boiled,  it  was  only  left  in  the  water  long  enough  to  lose 
the  red  color,  say  five  or  ten  minutes.  Before  they  got 
ketdes  from  the  whites,  the  Blackfeet  often  boiled  meat  in 
a  green  hide.  A  hole  was  dug  in  the  ground,  and  the  skin, 
flesh  side  up,  was  laid  in  it,  being  supported  about  the  edges 
of  the  hole  by  pegs.  The  meat  and  water  having  been 
placed  in  this  hollow,  red-hot  stones  were  dropped  in  the 
water  until  it  became  fiot  and  the  meat  was  cooked. 

In  time  of  plenty,  great  quantities  of  dried  meat  were 
prepared  for  use  when  fresh  meat  could  not  be  obtained. 
In  making  dried  meat,  the  thicker  parts  of  an  animal  were 
cut  in  large,  thin  sheets  and  hung  in  the  sun  to  dry.  If  the 
weather  was  not  fine,  the  meat  was  often  hung  up  on  lines 
or  scaffolds  in  the  upper  part  of  the  lodge.  When  properly 
cured  and  if  of  good  cpiality,  the  sheets  were  about  one- 


206 


THE    STORY    OF    Till':    TIIKKE    TKIBHS 


1  l! 


fourth  of  an  inch  thick  and  very  brittle.  The  back  fat  of 
the  buffalo  was  also  drietl,  and  eaten  with  the  meat  as  we 
eat  butter  with  bread.  Pemmican  was  made  of  the  flesh  of 
the  buffalo.  The  meat  was  dried  in  the  usual  way  ;  and,  for 
this  use,  only  lean  meat,  such  as  the  hams,  loin,  and  shoul- 
ders, was  chosen.  When  the  time  came  for  making  the 
pemmican,  two  large  fires  were  built  of  dry  cjuaking  aspen 
wood,  and  these  were  allowed  to  burn  down  to  red  coals. 
The  old  women  brought  the  dried  meat  to  these  fires,  and 
the  sheets  of  meat  were  thrown  on  the  coals  of  one  of  them, 
allowed  to  heat  through,  turned  to  keep  them  from  burning, 
and  then  thrown  on  the  flesh  side  of  u  dry  hide,  that  lay  on 
the  ground  near  by.  After  a  time,  the  roasting  of  this  dried 
meat  caused  a  smoke  to  rise  from  the  fire  in  use,  which  gave 
the  meat  a  bitter  taste,  if  cooked  in  it.  They  then  turned 
to  the  other  fire,  and  used  that  until  the  first  one  had  burned 
clear  again.  After  enough  of  the  roasted  meat  had  been 
thrown  on  the  hide,  it  was  flailed  out  with  sticks,  and  being 
very  brittle  was  easily  broken  up,  and  made  small.  It  was 
constantly  stirred  and  pounded  until  it  was  all  fine.  Mean- 
time, the  tallow  of  the  buffalo  had  been  melted  in  a  large 
kettle,  and  the  pemmican  bags  prepared.  These  were  made 
of  bull's  hide,  and  were  in  two  pieces,  cut  oblong,  and  with 
the  corners  rounded  off.  Two  such  pieces  sewed  together 
made  a  bag  which  would  hold  one  hundred  pounds.  The 
pounded  meat  and  tallow  —  the  latter  just  beginning  to  cool 
—  were  put  in  a  trough  made  of  bull's  hide,  a  wooden  spade 
being  used  to  stir  the  mixture.  After  it  was  thoroughly  mixed, 
it  was  shovelled  into  one  ofthe  sacks,  held  open,  and  rammed 
down  and  packed  tight  with  a  big  stick,  every  effort  being 
made  to  expel  all  the  air.  When  the  bag  was  full  and 
packed  as  tight  as  possil)le,  it  was  sewn  up.  It  was  then 
put  on  the  ground,  and  the  women  jumped  on  it  to  make  it 
still  more  tight  and  solid.  It  was  then  laid  away  in  the  sun 
to  cool  and  dry.     It  usually  took  the  meat  of  two  cows  to 


now    THK    lU.ACKFOOT    LIVED 


207 


make  a  bag  of  one  hundred  pounds  ;  a  very  large  bull  might 
make  a  sack  of  from  eighty  to  one  hundred  pounds. 

A  much  finer  grade  of  pemmican  was  made  from  the 
choicest  parts  of  the  buffalo  with  marrow  fat.  To  this  dried 
berries  and  pounded  choke-cherries  were  added,  making  a 
delicious  food,  which  was  extremely  nutritious.  Pemmican 
was  eaten  cither  dry  as  it  came  from  the  sack,  or  stewed 
with  water. 

In  the  spring,  the  people  had  great  feasts  of  the  eggs  of 
ducks  and  utiicr  watcr-fcjwl.  A  large  quantity  having  been 
gathered,  a  hole  was  dug  in  the  ground,  and  a  litde  water 
put  in  it.  At  short  intervals  above  the  water,  platforms  of 
sticks  were  built,  on  which  the  eggs  were  laid.  A  smaller 
hole  was  dug  at  one  side  of  the  large  hole,  slanting  into  the 
bottom  of  it.  When  all  was  ready,  the  top  of  the  larger  hole 
was  covered  with  mud,  laid  upon  cross  sticks,  and  red-hot 
stones  were  drojjped  into  the  slant,  when  they  rolled  down 
into  the  water,  heating  it,  and  so  cooking  the  eggs  by  steam. 

Fish  were  seldom  eaten  by  these  people  in  early  days, 
but  now  they  seem  very  fond  of  them.  Turtles,  frogs,  and 
lizards  are  considered  creatures  of  evil,  and  are  never 
eaten.  Dogs,  considered  a  great  delicacy  by  the  Crees, 
Gros  Ventres,  Sioux,  Assinaboines,  and  other  surrounding 
tribes,  were  never  eaten  by  the  Blackfeet.  No  religious 
motive  is  assigned  for  this  abstinence.  I  once  heard  a 
Piegan  say  that  it  was  wrong  to  eat  dogs.  "  They  are  our 
true  friends,"  he  said.  "  Men  say  they  are  our  friends  and 
then  turn  against  us,  but  our  dogs  are  always  true.  They 
mourn  when  we  are  absent,  and  are  always  glad  when  we 
return.  They  keep  watch  for  us  in  the  night  when  we  sleep. 
So  pity  the  poor  dogs." 

Snakes,  grasshoppers,  worms,  and  other  insects  were  never 
eaten.  Salt  was  an  unknown  condiment.  Many  are  now 
very  fond  of  it,  but  I  know  a  number,  especially  old  people, 
who  never  eat  it. 


I        I 


SOCIAL   ORGANIZATION 


The  social  organization  of  the  Blackfeet  is  very  simple. 
The  three  tribes  acknowledged  a  blood  relationship  with  each 
other,  and,  while  distinct,  still  considered  themselves  a 
nation.  In  this  confederation,  it  was  understood  that  there 
should  be  no  war  against  each  other.  However,  between 
i860  and  1870,  when  the  whiskey  trade  was  in  its  height, 
the  three  tril)es  were  several  times  at  swords'  points  on 
account  of  drunken  brawls.  Once,  about  sixty  or  seventy 
years  ago,  the  Bloods  and  Piegans  had  a  quarrel  so  serious 
that  men  were  killed  on  both  sides  and  horses  stolen ;  yet 
this  was  hardly  a  real  war,  for  only  a  part  of  each  tribe  was 
involved,  and  the  trouble  was  not  of  long  duration. 

Each  one  of  the  Blackfoot  tribes  is  subdivided  into 
gentes,  a  gens  being  a  body  of  consanguineal  kindred  in  the 
male  line.  It  is  noteworthy  that  the  Blackfeet,  although 
Algonquins,  have  this  system  of  subdivision,  and  it  may  be 
that  among  them  the  gentes  are  of  comparatively  recent 
date.  No  special  duties  are  assigned  to  any  one  gens,  nor 
has  any  gens,  so  far  as  I  know,  any  special  "  medicine  "  or 
"totem." 

Below  is  a  list  of  the  gentes  of  each  tribe. 


B1.ACKFEET  {Sik'-si-kau) 


(lentes : 


Ptih-ksi-nak'  -mah-yiks 
Mo-tah'-tos-iks 
Siks-in'  -o-kaks 
E'-mi-tah-pahk-sai-yiks 
Sai'-yiks 

208 


Flat  Bows. 
Many  Medicines. 
Black  Elks, 
Dogs  Naked. 
Liars. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 


209 


Ai-sik'-stuk-iks 

Tsin-ik-tsis'-lso-yiks 

Ap'i'kai-yiks 


Biters. 

Early  Finished  Eating. 

Skunks. 


Hlouus  ( Kai'-nah ) 


Siks-in'-o-'caks 

Ah-huo'-nis'lsists 

Ap-iU'-o-si-kai-nah 

Is-tsi'-kdi-iiah 

/n-iikk'-so-yi-st(im-iks 

Xit'-ik-skiks 

Siks-ah'-piin-iks 

Ah-kaik'-sum-iks 

/-sis'  -o-kiis-  im  -  iks 

Ah-kaV  -po-kaks 

Sak-si-nah'  -ntah-yiks 

Ap'-i'kai-yiks 

Ahk-o' -tash-iks 


Hlack  Elks. 

Many  Lodge  Poles, 

North  Bloods. 

Woods  Bloods. 

l>ong  Tail  Lodge  Poles. 

Lone  Fighters. 

Blackblood. 

Hair  Shirts. 
Many  Children. 
Short  Bows. 
Skunks. 
Many  Horses, 


PiKGANS   {Pi-kun'-"t) 


Ah'-pai-ttip-iks 

Ah-kai-yi-ko-ka'-kin-iks 

Ki'yis 

Sik-  ut'  -si-p  mil  ■  a  iks 

Sik-o-pok'  -si-maiks 

Tsin-ik-sis'  -iso-yiks 

Kut'-ai-iin-iks 

r-pok-si-maiks 

Sik'-o-kit-sini-iks 

A'i-taw'  -yiks 

Ap'-i-kai-yiks 

Mi-ah-wah'-pit-siks 

Nit'  -ak-os-kit-si-pup-iks 

Ait'-ik-skiks 

I-nuks'-iks 

Mi-aw'  -kin-ai-yiks 

Esk'  -sin-ai-ittp-tks 

I-nuk-si'  -kah-ko-piva-iks 

Kah'-mi-taiks 

Kut-ai-sot'  -s'l-man 


Blood  People. 

White  Breasts. 

Dried  Meat. 

Black  Patched  Moccasins. 

Black  fat  Roasters. 

Early  Finished  Eating. 

They  Don't  Laugh. 

F'at  Roasters. 

Black  Doors. 

Lone  Eaters. 

Skunks. 

Seldom  Lonesome. 

Obstinate. 

Lone  Fighters. 

Small  Robes. 

Big  Topknots. 

Worm  People. 

Small  Brittle  Fat. 

Buffalo  Dung. 

No  Parfleche. 


I- 

i 


210 


THE    STORV    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


Ni-tcl'-si-ksis-sta  n  •  iks 
Mo-twai'  -naiks 
Alo-kiim'-iks 
Mo-tah'-ios-iks 


Kill  Close  By. 
All  Chiefs. 
Red  Round  Robes. 
Many  Medicines. 


It  will  be  readily  seen  from  the  translations  of  the  above 
that  each  gens  takes  its  name  from  some  peculiarity  or  habit 
it  is  supposed  to  possess.  It  will  also  be  noticed  that  each 
tribe  has  a  few  gentes  common  to  one  or  both  of  the  other 
tribes.  This  is  caused  by  persons  leaving  their  own  tribe  to 
live  with  another  one,  but,  instead  of  uniting  with  some  gens 
of  the  adopted  tribe,  they  have  preserved  the  name  of  their 
ancestral  gens  for  themselves  and  their  descendants. 

The  Blackfoot  terms  of  relationship  will  be  found  interest- 
ing.    The  principal  family  names  are  as  follows  :  — 


My  father 

My  mother 

My  elder  brother 

My  younger  brother 

My  older  sister 

My  younger  sister 

My  uncle 

My  aunt 

My  cousi»^,  ;..J.c 

My  cousin,  female 

My  grandfather 

My  grandmother 

My  father-in-law 

My  mother-in-law 

My  son 

My  daughter 

My  son-in  law 

My  daughter-in-law 

My  brother-in-law  older  than  self 

My  brother-in-law  younger  than  self 

My  sister-in-law 

My  second  cousin 

My  wife 

My  husband 


Xi'-nah. 

Ni-kis'-ta. 

Nis'-ah 

Nis-kiin'. 

jVin'-s/a. 

Ni-sis'-ah. 

Nis'-ah. 

Ni-kis'-(a. 

Same  as  brother. 

Same  as  sister. 

Na-a/iks'. 

Na-a/iks'. 

A'a-ahks'. 

Nn-a/iks'. 

No-ko'-i. 

Ni-tuti'. 

Nis'-a/i. 

Ni-tct'  -o-ke-man. 

Nis-ttiin-o' . 

Nis-tuiii-o'-kun. 

AH-tot'-o-ke-maii. 

NiiHp'-sd. 

Ni(-o-k?'-ntan. 

No' -ma. 


I 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 


211 


As  the  members  of  a  gens  were  all  considered  as  relatives, 
however  remote,  there  was  a  law  prohibiting  a  man  from 
marrying  within  his  gens.  Originally  this  Ir.w  was  strictly 
enforced,  but  like  many  of  the  ancient  customs  it  is  no  longer 
observed.  Lately,  within  the  last  forty  or  fifty  years,  it  has 
become  not  uncommon  for  a  man  and  his  family,  or  even 
two  or  three  families,  on  account  of  some  quarrel  or  some 
personal  dislike  of  the  chief  of  their  own  gens,  to  leave  it  and 
join  another  band.  Thus  the  gentes  often  received  outsiders, 
who  were  not  related  by  blood  to  the  gens ;  and  such  people 
or  their  descendants  could  marry  within  the  gens.  Ancestry 
became  no  longer  necessary  to  membership. 

As  a  rule,  before  a  young  man  could  marry,  he  was  re- 
quired to  have  made  some  successful  expeditions  to  war 
against  the  enemy,  thereby  proving  himself  a  brave  man,  and 
at  the  same  time  acquiring  a  number  of  horses  and  other 
property,  which  would  enable  him  to  buy  the  woman  of  his 
choice,  and  afterwards  to  support  her. 

Marriages  usually  took  place  at  the  instance  of  the  parents, 
though  often  those  of  the  young  man  were  prompted  by 
him.  Sometimes  the  father  of  the  girl,  if  he  desired  to  have 
a  particular  man  for  a  son-in-law,  would  propose  to  the 
father  of  the  latter  for  the  young  man  as  a  husband  for  his 
daughter. 

The  marriage  in  the  old  days  was  arranged  after  this  wise  : 
The  chief  of  one  of  the  bands  may  have  a  marriageable 
daughter,  and  he  may  know  of  a  young  man,  the  son  of  a 
chief  of  another  band,  who  is  a  brave  warrior,  of  good 
character,  sober-minded,  steadfast,  and  trustworthy,  who  he 
thinks  will  make  a  good  husband  for  his  daughter  and  a 
good  son-in-law.  After  he  has  made  up  his  mind  about  this, 
he  is  very  likely  to  call  in  a  few  of  his  close  relations,  the 
principal  men  among  them,  and  state  to  them  his  conclu- 
sions, so  as  to  get  their  opinions  about  it.  If  nothing  is  said 
to  change  his  mind,  he  sends  to  the  father  of  the  boy  a  mes- 


i 


7 


■  V 
\ 

\ 
\ 
t 

\ 


2l: 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIRES 


senger  to  state  his  own  views,  and  ask  how  the  father  feels 
about  the  matter. 

On  receiving  this  word,  the  boy's  father  probably  calls  to- 
gether his  (lose  relations,  discusses  the  matter  with  them, 
and,  if  th."  match  is  satisfactory  to  him,  sends  back  word  to 
that  effect.  When  this  message  is  received,  the  relations  of 
the  girl  proceed  to  fit  her  out  with  the  very  best  that  they 
can  provide.  If  she  is  the  daughter  of  well-to-do  or  wealthy 
people,  she  already  has  many  of  the  things  that  are  needed, 
but  what  she  may  lack  is  soon  supplied.  Her  mother  makes 
her  a  new  cowskin  lodge,  complete,  with  new  lodge  poles, 
lining,  and  back  rests.  A  chiefs  daughter  would  already 
have  plenty  of  good  clothing,  but  if  the  girl  lacks  anything, 
it  is  furnished.  Her  dress  is  made  of  antelope  skin,  white 
as  snow,  and  perhaps  ornamented  with  two  or  three  hun- 
dred elk  tushes.  Her  leggings  are  of  deer  skin,  heavily 
beaded  and  nicely  fringed,  and  often  adorned  with  bells  and 
brass  buttons.  Her  summer  blanket  or  sheet  is  an  elk 
skin,  well  tanned,  without  the  hair  and  with  the  dew-claws 
left  on.  Her  moccasins  are  of  deer  skin,  with  parfleche 
soles  and  worked  with  porcupine  quills.  The  marriage  takes 
place  as  soon  as  these  things  can  be  provided. 

During  the  days  which  .intervene  between  the  proposal  and 
the  marriage,  the  young  woman  each  day  selects  the  choicest 
parts  of  the  meat  brought  to  the  lodge,  —  the  tongue,  "  boss 
ribs,"  some  choice  berry  pemmican  or  what  not,  — cooks  these 
things  in  the  best  style,  and,  either  alone,  or  in  company 
with  a  young  sister,  or  a  young  friend,  goes  over  to  the  lodge 
where  the  young  man  lives,  and  places  the  footl  before  him. 
He  eats  some  of  it,  little  or  much,  and  if  he  leaves  anything, 
the  girl  offers  it  to  his  mother,  who  may  eat  of  it.  Then  the 
girl  takes  the  dishes  and  returns  to  her  father's  lodge.  In 
this  way  she  provides  iiim  with  three  meals  a  day,  morning, 
noon,  and  night,  until  the  marriage  takes  ])lacc.  Every  one 
in  camp  who  sees  the  girl  carrying  the  food  in  a  covered  dish 


i 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 


213 


to  the  young  man's  lodge,  knows  that  a  marriage  is  to  take 
place  ;  am]  the  girl  is  watchetl  by  idle  persons  as  she  passes 
to  and  fro,  so  that  the  task  is  quite  a  trying  one  for  people  as 
shy  and  bashful  as  Indians  are.  When  the  time  for  the  mar- 
riage has  come,  —  in  other  words,  when  the  girl's  parents  are 
ready,  —  the  girl,  her  mother  assisting  her,  packs  the  new 
lodge  and  her  own  things  on  the  horses,  and  moves  out  into 
the  middle  of  the  circle  —  about  which  all  the  lodges  of  the 
tribe  are  arranged  —  and  there  the  new  lodge  is  unpacked 
and  set  up.  In  front  of  the  lodge  are  tied,  let  us  say,  fifteen 
horses,  the  girl's  dowry  given  by  her  father.  Very  likely,  too, 
the  father  has  sei.t  over  to  the  young  man  his  own  war 
clothing  and  arms,  a  lance,  a  fine  shield,  a  bow  and  arrows 
in  otter-skin  case,  his  war  bonnet,  war  shirt,  and  war 
leggings  ornamented  with  scalps,  —  his  complete  equipment. 
This  is  set  up  on  a  tripod  in  front  of  the  lodge.  The 
gift  of  these  things  is  an  evidence  of  the  great  respect  felt 
by  the  girl's  father  for  his  son-in-law.  As  soon  as  the  young 
man  has  seen  the  preparations  being  made  for  setting  up 
the  girl's  lodge  in  the  centre  of  the  circle,  he  sends  over 
to  his  father-in-law's  lodge  just  twice  the  number  of  horses 
that  the  girl  brought  with  her,  —  in  this  supposed  case, 
thirty. 

As  soon  as  this  lodge  is  set  up,  and  the  girl's  mother  has 
taken  her  departure  and  gone  back  to  her  own  lodge,  the 
young  man,  who,  until  he  saw  these  preparations,  had  no 
knowledge  of  when  the  marriage  was  to  take  place,  leaves 
his  father's  lodge,  and,  going  over  to  the  newly  erected  one, 
enters  and  takes  his  place  at  the  back  of  it.  Probably  during 
the  day  he  will  order  his  wife  to  take  down  the  lodge,  and 
either  move  away  from  the  camp,  or  at  least  move  into  the 
circle  of  lodges  ;  for  he  will  not  want  to  remain  with  his 
young  wife  in  the  most  conspicuous  place  in  the  camp. 
Often,  on  the  same  day,  he  will  send  for  six  or  eight  of  his 
friends,  and,  after  feasting  tlicm,  will  announce  his  intention 


!1 

:| 

, 

1 

, 

i 

' 

214 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


of  going  to  war,  and  will  start  off  the  same  night.  If  he  does 
so,  and  is  successful,  returning  with  horses  or  scalps,  or 
both,  he  at  once,  on  arrival  at  the  camp,  proceeds  to  his 
father-in-law's  lodge  and  leaves  there  everything  he  has 
brought  back,  returning  to  his  own  lodge  on  foot,  as  poor 
as  he  left  it. 

We  have  supposed  the  proposal  in  this  case  to  come  from 
the  father  of  the  girl,  but  if  a  boy  desires  a  particular  girl  for 
his  wife,  the  proposal  will  come  from  his  father ;  otherwise 
matters  are  managed  in  the  same  way. 

This  ceremony  of  moving  into  the  middle  of  the  circle 
was  only  performed  in  the  case  of  imi)()rtant  people.  The 
custom  was  observed  in  what  might  be  called  a  foshionable 
wedding  among  the  Blackfeet.  Poorer,  less  important 
people  married  more  quietly.  If  the  girl  had  reached  mar- 
riageable age  without  having  been  asked  for  as  a  wife,  she 
might  tell  her  mother  that  she  would  like  to  marry  a  certain 
young  man,  that  he  was  a  man  she  could  love  and  respect. 
The  mother  communicates  this  to  the  father  of  the  girl,  who 
invites  the  young  man  to  the  lodge  to  a  feast,  and  proposes 
the  match.  The  young  man  returns  no  answer  at  the  time, 
but,  going  back  to  his  father's  lodge,  tells  him  of  the  offer, 
and  expresses  his  feelings  about  it.  If  he  is  inclined  to  ac- 
cept, the  relations  are  summoned,  and  the  matter  talked 
over.  A  favorable  answer  being  returned,  a  certain  number 
of  horses  —  what  the  young  man  or  his  father,  or  both 
together,  can  spare  —  are  sent  over  to  the  girl's  father. 
They  send  as  many  as  they  can,  for  the  more  they  send,  the 
more  they  are  thought  of  and  looked  up  to.  The  girl,  un- 
less her  parents  are  very  poor,  has  her  outfit,  a  saddle  horse 
and  pack  horse  with  saddle  and  pack  saddle,  partleches,  etc. 
If  the  peojile  are  very  poor,  she  may  have  only  a  riding 
horse.  Her  relations  get  together,  and  do  all  in  their  ])ower 
to  give  her  a  good  fitting  out,  and  the  father,  if  he  can  pos- 
sibly do  so,  is  sure  to  pay  them  back  what  they  have  given. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 


215 


If  he  cannot  do  so,  the  things  are  still  presented  ;  for,  in  the 
case  of  a  marriage,  the  relations  on  both  sides  are  anxious  to 
do  all  that  they  can  to  give  the  young  people  a  good  start  in 
life.  When  all  is  ready,  the  girl  goes  to  the  lodge  where  her 
husband  lives,  and  goes  in.  If  this  lodge  is  too  crowded  to 
receive  the  couple,  the  young  man  will  make  arrangements 
for  space  in  the  lodge  of  a  brother,  cousin,  or  uncle,  where 
there  is  more  room.  These  are  all  his  close  relations,  and 
he  is  welcome  in  any  of  their  lodges,  and  has  rights  there. 

Sometimes,  if  two  young  people  are  fond  of  each  other, 
and  there  is  no  prospect  of  their  being  married,  they  may 
take  riding  horses  and  a  pack  horse,  and  elope  at  night,  go- 
ing to  some  other  camp  for  a  while.     This  makes  the  girl's 
father  angry,  for  he  feels  that  he  has  been  defrauded  of  his 
payments.     The   young   man  knows  that*  his  father-in-law 
bears  him  a  grudge,  and  if  he  afterwards  goes  to  war  and  is 
successful,  returning  with  six  or  seven  horses,  he  will  send 
them  all  to  the  camp  where  his  father-in-law  lives,  to  be 
tied  in  front  of  his  lodge.     This  at  once  heals  the  breach, 
and  the  couple  may  return.     Kven  if  he  has  not  been  suc- 
cessful in  war  and  brought  horses,  which  of  course  he  does 
not  always  accomplish,  he  from  time  to  time  sends  the  old 
man  a  present,   the   best  he   can.     Notwithstanding    these 
efforts  at  conciliation,  the  parents  feel  very  bitterly  against 
him.     The  girl  has  been  stolen.     The  union  is  no  marriage 
at  all.     The  old  people  are  ashamed  and  disgraced  for  their 
daughter.     Until  the  father  has  been  pacified  by  satisfactory 
payments,   there   is   no    marriage.      Moreover,    unless    the 
young  man  had  made  a  payment,  or  at  least  had  endeavored 
to  do  so,  he  would  be  little  thought  of  among  his  fellows, 
and  looked  down  on  as  a  poor  creature  without  any  sense  of 
honor. 

The  Blackfeet  take  as  many  wives  as  they  wish  ;  but  these 
ceremonies  are  only  carried  out  in  the  case  of  the  first 
wife,  the  "  sits-beside-him  "  woman.     In  the  case  of  subse- 


2l6 


THE    STORY    OF    TIIK    THREK    TRIBES 


quent  marriages,  if  the  man  had  proved  a  good,  kind  husband 
to  his  first  wife,  other  men,  who  thought  a  good  deal  of  their 
daughters,  might  propose  to  give  them  to  him,  so  that  they 
would  be  well  treated.  The  man  sent  over  the  horses  to 
the  new  father-in-law's  lodge,  and  the  girl  returned  to  his, 
l)ringing  her  things  with  her.  Or  if  the  man  saw  a  girl  he 
liked,  he  would  propose  for  her  to  her  father. 

Among  the  Blackfeet,  there  was  apparently  no  form  of 
courtship,  such  as  prevails  among  our  southern  Indians. 
Young  men  seldom  spoke  to  young  girls  who  were  not  rela- 
tions, and  the  girls  were  carefully  guarded.  They  never 
went  out  of  the  lodge  after  dark,  and  never  went  out  during 
the  day,  except  with  the  mother  or  some  other  old  woman. 
The  girl,  therefore,  had  very  little  choice  in  the  selection  of 
a  husband.  If  a  girl  was  told  she  must  marry  a  certain  man, 
she  had  to  obey.  She  might  cry,  but  her  father's  will  was 
law,  and  she  might  be  beaten  or  even  killed  by  him,  if  she 
did  not  do  as  she  was  ordered.  As  a  consequence  of  this 
severity,  suicide  was  quite  common  among  the  Blackfoot 
girls.  A  girl  ordered  to  marry  a  man  whom  she  did  not  like 
would  often  watch  her  chance,  and  go  out  in  the  brush  and 
hang  herself.  The  girl  who  could  not  marry  the  man  she 
wanted  to  was  likely  to  do  the  same  thing. 

The  man  had  absolute  power  over  his  wife.  Her  life  was 
in  his  hands,  and  if  he  had  made  a  payment  for  her,  he  could 
do  with  her  about  as  he  pleased.  On  the  whole,  however, 
women  who  behaved  themselves  were  well  treated  and 
received  a  good  deal  of  consideration.  Those  who  were 
light-headed,  or  foolish,  or  obstinate  and  stubborn  were 
sometimes  badly  beaten.  Those  who  were  unfaithful  to 
their  husbands  usually  had  their  noses  or  cars,  or  both,  cut 
off  for  the  first  offence,  and  were  killed  either  liy  the  husband 
or  some  relation,  or  by  the  I-kun-uh^-kah-tsi  for  the  second. 
Many  of  the  doctors  of  the  highest  reputation  in  the  tribe 
were  women. 


i 


SOCIAL    OROAXIZAl'IOX 


217 


i 


It  is  a  common  belief  among  some  of  those  who  have  in- 
vestigated the  subject  that  the  wife  in  Indian  marriage  was 
actually  ])urchased,  and  became  the  absolute  property  of  her 
husband.  Though  I  have  a  great  respect  for  some  of  the 
opinions  which  have  been  expressed  on  this  subject,  I  am 
obliged  to  take  an  entirely  different  view  of  the  matter.  I 
have  talked  this  subject  over  many  times  with  young  men 
and  old  men  of  a  number  of  tribes,  and  I  cannot  learn  from 
them,  or  in  any  other  way,  that  in  primitive  times  the  woman 
was  purchased  from  her  father.  The  husband  did  not  have 
property  rights  in  his  wife.  She  was  not  a  chattel  that  he 
could  trade  away.  He  had  all  personal  rights,  could  beat 
his  wife,  or,  for  cause,  kill  her,  but  he  could  not  sell  her  to 
another  man. 

All  the  younger  sisters  of  a  man's  wife  were  regarded  as 
his  potential  wives.  If  he  was  not  disposed  to  marry  them, 
they  could  not  be  disposed  of  to  any  other  man  without  his 
consent. 

Not  infrequently,  a  man  having  a  marriageable  daughter 
formally  gave  her  to  some  young  man  who  had  proved  him- 
self brave  in  war,  successful  in  taking  horses,  and,  above  all, 
of  a  generous  disposition.  This  was  most  often  done  by 
men  wiio  had  no  sons  to  support  them  in  their  old  age. 

It  is  said  that  in  the  old  days,  before  they  had  horses, 
young  men  did  not  expect  to  marry  until  they  had  almost 
reached  middle  life,  —  from  thirty-five  to  forty  years  of  age. 
This  statement  is  made  by  Wolf  Calf,  who  is  now  very  old, 
almost  one  hundred  years,  he  believes,  and  can  remember 
back  nearly  or  quite  to  the  time  when  the  Rlackfeet  obtained 
their  first  horses.  In  those  days,  young  women  did  not 
marry  until  they  were  grown  up,  while  of  late  years  fathers 
not  infrequently  sell  their  daughters  as  wives  when  they  are 
only  children. 

The  first  woman  a  man  marries  is  called  his  sits-beside- 
him  wife.     She  is  invested  with  authority  over  all  the  other 


2l8 


THE    STORY   OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


i  ' 


wives,  and  does  little  except  to  direct  the  others  in  their 
work,  and  look  after  the  comfort  of  her  husband.  Her  place 
in  the  lodge  is  on  his  right-hand  side,  while  the  others  have 
their  places  or  seats  near  the  door-way.  This  wife  is  even 
allowed  at  informal  gatherings  to  take  a  whiff  at  the  pipe, 
as  it  is  passed  around  the  circle,  and  to  participate  in  the 
conversation. 

In  the  old  days,  it  was  a  very  poor  man  who  did  not 
have  three  wives.  Many  had  six,  eight,  and  some  more  than 
a  dozen.  I  have  heard  of  one  who  had  sixteen.  In  those 
times,  provided  a  man  had  a  good-sized  band  of  horses,  the 
more  wives  he  had,  the  richer  he  was.  He  could  always 
find  young  men  to  hunt  for  him,  if  he  furnished  the  mounts, 
and,  of  course,  the  more  wives  he  had,  the  more  robes  and 
furs  they  would  tan  for  him. 

If,  for  any  cause,  a  man  wished  to  divorce  himself  from  a 
woman,  he  had  but  to  send  her  back  to  her  jwrents  and 
demand  the  price  paid  for  her,  and  the  matter  was 
accomplished.  The  woman  was  then  free  to  marry  again, 
provided  her  parents  were  willing. 

When  a  man  dies,  his  wives  become  the  potential  wives  of 
his  oldest  brother.  Unless,  during  his  life,  he  has  given 
them  outright  horses  and  other  property,  at  his  death  they 
are  entitled  to  none  of  his  possessions.  If  he  has  sons,  the 
property  is  divided  among  them,  except  a  few  horses,  which 
are  given  to  his  brothers.  If  he  has  no  sons,  all  the  prop- 
erty goes  to  his  brothers,  and  if  there  are  no  brothers,  it 
goes  to  the  nearest  male  relatives  on  the  father's  side. 

The  Blackfeet  cannot  be  said  to  have  been  slave-holders. 
It  is  true  that  the  Crees  call  the  Blackfeet  women  "  Little 
Slaves."  But  this,  as  elsewhere  suggested,  may  refer  to  the 
region  whence  they  originally  came,  though  it  is  often 
explained  that  it  is  on  account  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
Blackfeet  treat  their  women,  killing  them  or  mutilating  t!.eir 
features  for  adultery  and  other  serious  offences. 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 


r.'IQ 


Although  a  woman,  all  her  life,  was  subject  to  some  one's 
orders,  either  parent,  relative,  or  husband,  a  man  from  his 
earliest  childhood  was  free  and  independent.  His  father 
would  not  punish  him  for  any  misconduct,  his  mother 
dared  not.  At  an  early  ago  he  was  taught  to  ride  and 
shoot,  and  horses  were  given  to  him.  By  the  time  he  was 
twelve,  he  had  probably  been  on  a  war  expedition  or  two. 
As  a  rule  in  later  times,  young  men  married  when  they  were 
seventeen  or  eighteen  years  of  age  ;  and  often  they  resided 
for  several  years  with  their  fathers,  until  the  flimily  became 
so  large  that  there  was  not  room  for  them  all  in  the  lodge. 

There  were  always  in  the  camp  a  number  of  boys, 
orphans,  who  became  the  servants  of  wealthy  men  for  a 
consideration  ;  that  is,  they  looked  after  their  patron's  horses 
and  hunted,  and  in  return  they  were  provided  with  suitable 
food  and  clothing. 

Among  the  Blackfeet,  all  men  were  free  and  equal,  and 
office  was  not  hereditary.  Formerly  each  gens  was  governed  " 
by  a  chief,  who  was  entitled  to  his  office  by  virtue  of  his 
bravery  and  generosity.  The  head  chief  was  chosen  by  the 
chiefs  of  the  gentes  from  their  own  number,  and  was  usually 
the  one  who  could  show  the  best  record  in  war,  as  proved  at 
the  Medicine  Lodge,'  at  which  time  he  was  elected ;  and 
for  the  ensuing  year  he  was  invested  with  the  supreme 
power.  But  no  matter  how  brave  a  man  might  have  been, 
or  how  successful  in  war,  he  could  not  hope  to  be  the  chief 
either  of  a  gens  or  of  the  tribe,  unless  he  was  kind-hearted, 
and  willing  to  share  his  prosperity  with  the  poor.  For  this 
reason,  a  cliief  was  never  a  wealthy  man,  for  what  he  acquired 
with  one  hand  he  gave  away  with  the  other.  It  was  he 
who  decided  when  the  people  should  move  camp,  and 
where  they  should  go.  But  in  this,  as  in  all  other  important 
affciirs,  he  generally  asked  the  advice  of  the  minor  chiefs. 

'Y\\el-kun-uh'-kah-isi  (All  Comrades)  were  directly  under 

1  See  chapter  on  Religion. 


ii 


J20 


THE    STORY    OF    TIIK    THREE    TRIBES 


the  authority  of  the  head  chief,  and  when  any  one  was 
to  be  punished,  or  anything  else  was  to  be  done  which 
came  within  their  province  as  tlie  tribal  police,  it  was  he 
who  issued  the  orders.  The  following  were  the  crimes 
which  the  Blackfeet  considered  sufficiently  serious  to  merit 
])unishment,  and  the  penalties  which  attached  to  them. 

Murder  :  A  life  for  a  life,  or  a  heavy  j)ayment  by  the 
murderer  or  his  relatives  at  the  option  of  the  murdered 
man's  relatives.  This  payment  was  often  so  heavy  as  abso- 
lutely to  strip  the  murderer  of  all  property. 

Theft :  Simply  the  restoration  of  the  property. 

Adultery  ;  For  the  first  offence  the  husband  generally  cut 
off  the  offending  wife's  nose  or  ears  ;  for  the  second  offence 
she  was  killed  by  the  All  Comrades.  Often  the  woman,  if 
her  husband  complained  of  her,  would  be  killed  by  her 
brothers  or  first  cousins,  and  this  was  more  usual  than  death 
at  the  hands  of  the  .\11  Comrades.  However,  the  husband 
could  have  her  put  to  death  for  the  first  offence,  if  he  chose. 

Treachery  (that  is,  when  a  member  of  the  tribe  went 
over  to  the  enemy  or  gave  them  any  aid  whatever)  :  Death 
at  sight. 

Cowardice  :  A  man  who  would  not  fight  was  obliged  to 
wear  woman's  dress,  and  was  not  allowed  to  marry. 

If  a  man  left  camp  to  hunt  buffalo  by  himself,  thereby 
driving  away  the  game,  the  /Ml  Comrades  were  sent  after 
him,  and  not  only  brought  him  back  by  main  fo'ce,  but  often 
whipped  him,  tore  his  lodge  to  shreds,  broke  his  travois,  and 
often  took  away  his  store  of  dried  meat,  pemmican,  and 
other  food. 

The  tradition  of  the  origin  of  the  /-kini-uh'-kah-tsi\\:x%  else- 
where been  given.  This  association  of  the  All  Comrades 
consisted  of  a  dozen  or  more  secret  societies,  graded  accord- 
ing to  age,  the  whole  constituting  an  association  which  was 
in  part  benevolent  and  hclpfiil,  and  in  part  military,  but 
whose  main  function  was  to  punish  offences  against  society 


i 


SOCIAL    ORGANIZATION 


!2I 


1 


at  large.  All  these  societies  were  really  law  and  order  asso- 
ciations. The  Mut'-siks,  or  Braves,  was  the  chief  society,  but 
the  others  helped  the  Braves. 

A  number  of  the  societies  which  made  up  the  I-kun-uh'- 
kah-tsi  have  been  abandoned  in  recent  years,  but  several  of 
them  still  exist.  Among  the  Pi-kun'-i,  the  list  — so  far  as  I 
have  it  —  is  as  follows,  the  societies  being  named  in  order 
from  those  of  boyhood  to  old  age  :  — 


IVi-sliks', 

Kuk-kiiiks', 

Tuis-k'is'-nks, 

Mttt'-slks, 
Knats-o-tiii'-ta, 


SOCIETIKS    OI-    IMK    ALL   COMRADES 
Liltlc  iJinls, 


Pigeons, 

Mosquitoes, 

Braves, 

All  Crazy  Dogs, 


includes  buys  from  15  to  20 
years  uUl. 

men  who  have  been  to  war 
several  times. 

men  who  are  constantly  go- 
ing to  war. 

tried  warriors. 

about  forty  years  old. 


Ma-stoh'-pa-ta-kiks     Raven  Bearers. 
E'-ini-taks, 


Dogs, 
Tails, 
Horns,  Bloods, 


old  men.      Dogs  and  Tails 

are  different  societies,  but 

they  dress  alike  and  dance 

together  and  alike. 

•1  obsolete  among  the  Piegans, 

Kit-foxes.  Piegans,    J       but  still  exists  with  Bloods. 

Catchers  or  Soldiers,     obsolete  for  25  or  30  years, 

perhaps  longer. 
Bulls,  obsolete  for  50  years. 


Is'-sui, 

Ets-kai'-na/i, 

Stn'-o-pah, 

I'l-in'-a-ke, 

ShVin'iks, 

There  may  be  other  societies  of  the  All  Comrades,  but  these 
are  the  only  ones  that  I  know  of  at  present.  The  Mut'-siks, 
Braves,  and  the  Knats-o-mi'-ta,  All  Crazy  Dogs,  still  exist,  but 
many  of  the  others  are  being  forgotten.  Since  the  neces- 
sity for  their  existence  has  passed,  they  are  no  longer  kept 
up.  They  were  a  part  of  tlie  old  wild  life,  and  when  the 
buffalo  disappeared,  and  the  Blackfeet  came  to  live  about  an 
agency,  and  to  try  to  work  for  a  subsistence,  the  societies 
soon  lost  their  importance. 


222 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    THREE    TRIBES 


The  societies  known  as  Little  Thirds,  ]VIos(iuitocs,  and 
Doves  are  not  really  bands  of  tlie  All  Comrades,  but  are 
societies  among  the  boys  and  young  men  in  imitation  of  the 
I-kun-uh^-kah-isi,  but  of  comparatively  recent  origin.  Men 
not  more  than  fifty  years  old  can  remember  when  these 
societies  came  into  existence.  Of  all  the  societies  of  the 
I-ktin-ulC-kah-tsi,  the  Sin'-o-pah,  or  Kit-fox  band,  has  the 
strongest  medicine.  This  corresponds  to  the  Horns  society 
among  the  lUoods.  They  are  the  same  band  with  different 
names.  They  have  certain  peculiar  secret  and  sacred  cere- 
monies, not  to  be  described  here. 

The  society  of  the  Stum'-iks,  or  Hulls,  became  obsolete 
more  than  fifty  years  ago.  Their  dress  was  very  fine,  —  bulls' 
heads  and  robes. 

The  members  of  the  younger  society  purchased  individu- 
ally, from  the  next  older  one,  its  rights  and  privileges,  pay- 
ing horses  for  them.  For  example,  each  member  of  the 
Mosquitoes  would  purchase  from  some  member  of  the  Braves 
his  right  of  membership  in  the  latter  society.  The  man 
who  has  sold  his  rights  is  then  a  member  of  no  society,  and 
if  he  wishes  to  belong  to  one,  must  buy  into  the  one  next 
higher.  Each  of  these  societies  kept  some  old  men  as  mem- 
bers, and  these  old  men  acted  as  messengers,  orators,  and 
so  on. 

The  change  of  membership  from  one  society  to  another 
was  made  in  the  spring,  after  the  grass  had  started.  Two, 
three,  or  more  lodge  coverings  were  stretched  over  poles, 
making  one  very  large  lodge,  and  in  this  the  ceremonies  ac- 
companying the  changes  took  place. 

In  later  times,  the  Braves  were  the  most  important  and 
best  known  of  any  of  the  All  Comrades  societies.  The 
members  of  this  band  were  soldiers  or  police.  They  were 
the  constables  of  the  camp,  and  it  was  their  duty  to  preserve 
order,  and  to  punish  offenders.  Sometimes  young  men 
would  skylark  in  camp  at  night,  making  a  great  noise  when 


SOCIAI.    ORGANIZATION 


223 


people  wanted  to  sleep,  and  would  play  rough  practical 
jokes,  that  were  not  at  all  relished  by  those  who  suffered 
from  them.  One  of  the  forms  which  their  high  spirits  took 
was  to  lead  and  p  sh  a  young  colt  uj)  to  the  door  of  a  lodge, 
after  peoi)le  were  asleep,  and  then,  lifting  the  door,  to  shove 
the  animal  inside  and  close  the  door  again.  Of  course  the 
colt,  in  its  efforts  to  get  out  to  its  mother,  would  run  round 
and  round  the  lodge,  trampling  over  the  sleepers  and 
roughly  awakening  them,  knocking  things  down  and  creating 
the  utmost  confusion,  while  the  mare  would  be  whinnying 
outside  the  lodge,  and  the  people  within,  bewildered  and 
confused,  did  not  know  what  the  disturbance  was  all  about. 

The  Braves  would  punish  the  young  men  who  did  such 
things,  —  if  they  could  catch  them,  —  tearing  up  their 
blankets,  taking  away  their  property,  and  sometimes  whip- 
ping them  severely.  They  were  the  peace  officers  of  the 
camp,  like  tlie  hiri pTtk'its  among  the  Pawnees. 

Among  the  property  of  the  Urave  society  were  two  stone- 
pointed  arrows,  one  "shield  you  don't  sit  down  with,"  and 
one  rattle.  The  man  who  carried  this  rattle  was  known  as 
Brave  Dog,  and  if  it  passed  from  one  member  of  the  society 
to  another,  the  new  owner  became  known  as  Brave  Dog. 
The  man  who  received  the  shield  could  not  sit  down  for 
the  next  four  days  and  four  nights,  but  for  all  that  time  was 
obliged  to  run  about  the  camp,  or  over  the  prairie,  whistling 
like  a  rabbit. 

The  societies  known  as  Soldiers  and  Bulls  had  passed 
out  of  existence  before  the  time  of  men  now  of  middle  age. 
The  pipe  of  the  Soldier  society  is  still  in  existence,  in  the 
hands  of  Double  Runner.  The  bull's  head  war  bonnet, 
which  was  the  insignia  of  the  Bulls  societv,  was  formerly  in 
the  possession  of  Young  Bear  Chief,  a  Tesent  chief  of 
the  Don't  Laugh  band  of  the  Piegans.  He  gave  it  to  White 
Calf,  who  presented  it  to  a  recent  agent. 

In  the  old  days,  and,  indeed,  down  to  the  time  of  the 


224 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


disappearance  of  the  buffalo,  the  camp  was  always  arranged 
in  the  form  of  a  circle,  the  lodges  standing  at  intervals 
around  the  circumference,  and  in  the  wide  inner  space  there 
was  another  circle  of  lodges  occupied  by  the  chief  of  certain 
bands  of  the  I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi.  When  all  the  gentes  of  the 
tribe  were  present,  each  had  its  special  position  in  the 
circle,  and  always  occupied  it.  The  lodge  of  the  chief  of 
the  gens  stood  just  within  the  circle,  and  about  it  his  people 
camped.  The  order  indicated  in  the  accompanying  diagram 
represents  the  Piegan  camp  as  it  used  to  stand  thirty-five 
or  forty  years  ago.  A  number  of  the  gentes  are  now  extinct, 
and  it  is  not  altogether  certain  just  what  the  position  of 
those  should  be ;  for  while  all  the  older  men  agree  on  the 
position  to  be  assigned  to  certain  of  the  gentes,  there  are 
others  about  which  there  are  differences  of  opinion  or  much 
uncertainty.  It  is  stated  that  the  gentes  known  as  Seldom 
Lonesome,  Dried  Meat,  and  No  Parfleche  belong  to  that 
section  of  the  tribe  known  as  North  Piegans,  which,  at  the 
time  of  the  first  treaty,  separated  from  the  Pi-kun'-i,  and 
elected  to  live  under  British  rule. 

The  lodges  of  the  chiefs  of  the  I-kiin-uh'-kah-tsi  which 
were  within  the  circle  served  as  lounging  and  eating  places 
for  such  members  of  the  bands  as  were  on  duty,  and  were 
council  lodges  or  places  for  idling,  as  the  occasion  demanded. 

When  the  camp  moved,  the  Blood  gens  moved  first  and 
was  followed  by  the  White  Breast  gens,  and  so  on  around 
the  circle  to  number  24.  On  camping,  the  Bloods  cam])(^'d 
first,  and  the  others  after  them  in  the  order  indicated,  num- 
ber 24  camping  last  and  closing  up  the  circle. 


i 


I 


'4 


Diagram  of  Old-time  Piegan  Camp,  say  1850  to  1855.    Twenty- 
four  Lodges  of  Chiefs  of  the  Gentes  about  the  Outer  Circle. 

The  inner  circle  shows  lodges  of  chiefs  of  certain  bands  of  the  I-kun-uh' -kah-Ui. 


1.  Blood  People. 

2.  White  Breasts. 
Dried  Meat. 
Black  Patched  Moc- 
casins. 

Black  Fat  Roasters. 
Karly  Finished  Eat- 
ing. 
Don't  Laugh. 


7 


a.  All  Crazy  Dogs. 
/'.  Dogs. 
c.  Tails. 


Gentes  of  the  Pi-kun'-i 

8.  Fat  Roasters. 

9.  Black  Doors. 
Lone  Eaters. 
Skunks. 

Seldom  Lonesome. 
Obstinate. 
Lone  Fighters. 
Small  Robes. 
Big  Topknots. 


10. 
II. 

12. 

13- 

14. 

15- 
16. 


17.  Worm  People. 

18.  Small  Brittle  Fat. 

19.  Buffalo  Dung. 

20.  No  Parfleche. 

21.  Kill  Close  By. 

22.  All  Chiefs. 

23.  Red  Round  Robes. 

24.  Many  Medicines. 


Bands  of  the  I-kun-uh'-kah-tsi 

d.  Kit-foxes. 

e.  Raven  Bearers. 

f.  Braves. 


g.   Mosquitoes. 
h.  Soldiers. 
I.  Doves. 

225 


HUNTING 


J 


I  '' 


The  Blackfoot  country  probably  contained  more  game 
and  in  greater  variety  than  any  other  part  of  the  conti- 
nent. Theirs  was  a  land  whose  physical  characteristics 
presented  sharp  contrasts.  There  were  flir-stretching  grassy 
prairies,  affording  rich  pasturage  for  tlie  buflalo  and  the 
antelope ;  rough  breaks  and  bad  lands  for  the  climbing 
mountain  sheep ;  wooded  buttes,  loved  by  the  mule  deer ; 
timbered  river  bottoms,  where  the  white-tailed  deer  and  the 
elk  could  browse  and  hide  ;  narrow,  swampy  valleys  for  the 
moose  ;  and  snow-patched,  glittering  pinnacles  of  rock,  over 
which  the  sure-footed  white  goat  took  his  deliberate  way. 
The  climate  varied  from  arid  to  humid  ;  the  game  of  the 
prairie,  the  timber,  and  the  rocks,  found  places  suited  to 
their  habits.  Fur-bearing  animals  abounded.  Noisy  hordes 
of  wild  fowl  passed  north  and  south  in  their  migrations,  and 
many  stopped  here  to  breed. 

The  Blackfoot  country  is  especially  favored  by  the  warm 
Chinook  winds,  which  insure  mild  winters  with  but  little 
snow ;  and  although  on  the  plains  there  is  usually  little  rain 
in  summer,  the  short  prairie  grasses  are  sweet  and  rich. 
All  over  this  vast  domain,  the  buffalo  were  found  in  count- 
less herds.  Elk,  deer,  antelope,  mountain  sheep,  and  bear 
without  number  were  there.  In  those  days,  sheep  were  to 
be  found  on  every  ridge,  and  along  the  rough  bad  lands  far 
from  the  mountains.  Now,  except  a  few  in  the  "  breaks  " 
of  the  Missouri,  they  occur  only  on  the  highest  and  most 
inaccessible  mountains,  along  with   the  white  goats,  which, 


HUNTING 


227 


although  pre-eminently   mountain   animals,  were   in   early 
days  sometimes  found  for  out  on  the  prairie. 

Buffalo 

The  Blackfeet  were  a  race  of  meat-eaters,  and,  while  they 
killed  large  quantities  of  other  game,  they  still  depended 
for  subsistence  on  the  buffalo.  This  animal  provided  them 
with  almost  all  that  they  needed  in  the  way  of  food,  cloth- 
ing, and  shelter,  and  when  they  had  an  abundance  of  the 
buffalo  they  lived  in  comfort. 

Almost  every  part  of  the  beast  was  utilized.  The  skin, 
dressed  with  the  hair  on,  protected  them  from  the  winter's 
cold  ;  freed  from  the  hair,  it  was  used  for  a  summer  sheet  or 
blanket,  for  moccasins,  leggings,  shirts,  and  women's  dresses. 
The  tanned  cowskins  made  their  lodges,  the  warmest  and 
most  comfortable  portable  shelters  ever  devised.  From  the 
rawhide,  the  hair  having  been  shaved  off,  were  made  par- 
fleches,  or  trunks,  in  which  to  pack  small  articles.  The 
tough,  thick  hide  of  the  bull's  neck,  spread  out  and  allowed 
to  shrink  smooth,  made  a  shield  for  war  which  would  stop 
an  arrow,  and  turn  a  lance  thrust  or  the  ball  from  an  old- 
fashioned,  smooth-bore  gun.  The  green  hide  served  as  a 
kettle,  in  which  to  boil  meat.  The  skin  of  the  hind  leg,  cut 
off  above  the  pastern  and  again  some  distance  above  the 
hock,  was  sometimes  used  as  a  moccasin  or  boot,  the  lower 
opening  being  sewed  up  for  the  toe.  A  variety  of  small 
articles,  such  as  cradles,  gun  covers,  whips,  mittens,  quivers, 
bow  cases,  knife-sheaths,  etc.,  were  made  from  the  hide. 
Braided  strands  of  liide  furnished  them  with  ropes  and  lines. 
The  hair  was  used  to  stuff  cushions  and,  later,  saddles,  and 
parts  of  the  long  black  (lowing  beard  to  ornament  wearing 
apparel  and  implements  of  war,  such  as  shields  and  quivers. 
The  horns  gave  them  spoons  and  ladles  —  sometimes  used 
as  small  dishes — and  ornamented  their  war  bonnets.  From 
the  hoofs  they  made  a  glue,  which  they  used  in  fastening  the 


if    ! 


228 


THE    STORY    OF    THF    THREE    TRIBES 


heads  and  feathers  on  their  arrows,  and  the  sinew  backs 
on  their  bows.  The  sinews  which  lie  along  the  back 
and  on  the  belly  were  used  as  thread  and  string,  and  as 
backing  for  bows  to  give  them  elasticity  and  strength. 
l'>om  the  ribs  were  made  scrapers  used  in  dressing  hides, 
and  runners  for  small  sledges  drawn  by  dogs  ;  and  they 
were  employed  by  the  children  in  coasting  down  hill 
on  snow  or  ice.  The  shoulder-blades,  lashed  to  a  wooden 
handle,  formed  axes,  hoes,  and  fleshers.  From  the  cannon 
bones  (metatarsals  and  metacarpals)  were  made  scrapers 
for  dressing  hides.  The  skin  of  the  tail,  fitted  on  a  stick, 
was  used  as  a  fly  brush.  These  are  but  a  few  of  the  uses  to 
which  the  product  of  the  buffalo  was  put.  As  has  been 
said,  almost  e\ery  part  of  the  flesh  was  eaten. 

Now  it  must  be  remembered  that  in  early  days  the  hunt- 
ing weapons  of  this  ]ieoi)le  consisted  only  of  stone-pointed 
arrows,  nnd  wilh  such  armament  the  capture  of  game  of  the 
larger  sorts  must  have  been  a  matter  of  some  uncertainty. 
To  drive  a  rnde  stone-headed  arrow  through  the  tough  hide 
and  into  the  vitals  of  the  buffalo,  could  not  have  been  — 
even  under  the  most  flworable  circumstances  —  other  than 
a  difficult  matter  ;  and  although  we  may  assume  that,  in  those 
days,  it  was  easy  to  steal  up  to  within  a  few  yards  of  the  un- 
suspicious animals,  we  can  readily  conceive  that  many  ar- 
rows must  have  been  shot  without  effect,  for  one  that  brought 
down  the  game. 

Certain  ingenious  methods  were  therefore  devised  to  in- 
sure the  taking  of  game  in  large  numbers  at  one  time.  This 
was  especially  the  case  with  the  buffiilo,  which  were  the  food 
and  raiment  of  the  people.  One  of  these  contrivances  was 
called  pis'kun,  deep-kettle  ;  or,  since  the  termination  of  the 
word  seems  to  indicate  the  last  syllable  of  the  word  ali'-puu, 
blood,  it  is  more  likely  deep-blood-kettle.  This  was  a  large 
corral,  or  enclosure,  built  out  from  the  foot  of  a  perpendic- 
ular cliff  or  bluff,  and   formed   of  natural  banks,  rocks,  and 


t 


HUNTING  229 

logs  or  brush,  —  anything  in  fact  to  make  a  close,  high  barrier. 
In  some  places  the  enclosure  might  be  only  a  fence  of  brush, 
but  even  here  the  buffalo  did  not  break  it  down,  for  they 
did  not  push  against  it,  but  ran  round  and  round  within, 
looking  for  a  clear  space  through  which  they  might  pass. 
From  the  top  of  the  bluff,  directly  over  the  pis'kun,  two  long 
lines  of  rock  piles  and  brush  extended  far  out  on  the  prairie, 
ever  diverging  from  each  other  like  the  arms  of  the  letter 
V,  the  opening  over  the  pis'kun  being  at  the  angle. 

In  the  evening  of  the  day  preceding  a  drive  of  buffalo 
into  the  pis'kun  a  medicine  man,  usually  one  who  was  the 
possessor  of  a  buffalo  rock,  In-is'-kim,  uiH\)llcd  his  pipe,  and 
prayed  to  the  Sun  for  success.  Next  morning  the  man  who 
was  to  call  the  buffalo  arose  very  early,  and  told  his  wives 
that  they  must  not  leave  the  lodge,  nor  even  look  out,  until 
he  returned  ;  that  they  should  keep  burning  sweet  grass, 
and  should  pray  to  the  Sun  for  his  success  and  safety.  With- 
out eating  or  drinking,  he  then  went  up  on  the  prairie,  and 
the  people  followed  him,  and  concealed  themselves  behind 
the  rocks  and  bushes  which  formed  the  V,  or  chute.  The 
medicine  man  put  on  a  head-dress  made  of  the  head  of  a 
buffalo,  and  a  robe,  and  then  started  out  to  approach  the 
animals.  When  he  had  come  near  to  the  herd,  he  moved 
about  until  he  had  attracted  the  attention  of  some  of  the 
bullilo,  and  when  they  began  to  look  at  him,  he  walked 
slowly  away  toward  the  entrance  of  the  chute.  Usually  the 
buffalo  followed,  and,  as  they  did  so,  he  gradually  increased 
his  pace.  'I'hc  buffalo  followed  more  rai)idly,  and  the  man 
continually  went  a  little  fixster.  Finally,  when  the  buffalo 
were  fairly  within  the  chute,  the  people  began  to  rise  up  from 
behind  the  rock  piles  which  the  herd  had  passed,  and  to 
shout  and  wave  their  robes.  This  frightened  the  hinder- 
most  buffiilo,  which  pushed  forward  on  the  others,  and  be- 
fore long  the  whole  herd  was  running  at  headlong  speed 
toward  the  precipice,  the  rnck  piles  directing  them  to  the 


230 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


I 


I      i 


-1    :^i 


point  over  the  enclosure.  When  they  reached  it,  most  of  the 
animals  were  pushed  over,  and  usually  even  the  last  of 
the  band  plunged  blindly  down  into  the  ];)is'kun.  Many  were 
killed  outright  by  the  fall  ;  others  had  1)roken  legs  or  broken 
backs,  while  some  perhaps  were  uninjured.  The  barricade, 
however,  prevented  them  from  escaping,  and  all  were  soon 
killed  by  the  arrows  of  the  Indians. 

It  is  said  that  there  was  another  way  to  get  the  buffalo 
into  this  chute.  A  man  who  was  very  skilful  in  arousing 
the  buffalo's  curiosit,-,  might  go  out  without  disguise,  and  by 
wheeling  round  and  round  in  front  of  the  herd,  appearing 
and  disappearing,  would  induce  them  to  move  toward  him, 
when  it  was  easy  to  entice  them  into  the  chute.  Once 
there,  the  people  began  to  rise  up  behind  them,  shouting 
and  waving  their  robes,  and  the  now  terror-stricken  animals 
rushed  ahead,  and  were  driven  over  the  cliff  into  the 
pis'kun,  where  all  were  quickly  killed  and  divided  among  the 
people,  the  chiefs  and  the  leading  warrior  getting  the  best 
and  fattest  animals. 

The  pis'kun  was  in  use  up  to  within  thirty-five  or  forty 
years,  and  many  men  arc  still  living  who  have  seen  the  buf- 
falo driven  over  the  cliff.  Such  men  even  now  speak  with 
enthusiasm  of  the  plenty  that  successful  drives  brought  to 
the  camp. 

The  pis'kuns  of  the  Sik'-si-kau,  or  Rlackfoot  tribe,  differed 
in  some  particulars  from  those  constructed  by  the  Bloods 
and  the  Piegans,  who  live  further  to  the  south,  nearer  to  the 
mountains,  and  so  in  a  country  which  is  rougher  and  more 
broken.  The  Sik'-si-kau  built  tiieir  ])is'kuns  like  the  Crees, 
on  level  ground  and  usually  near  timber.  .A.  large  pen  or 
corral  was  made  of  heavy  logs  about  eight  feet  high.  On  the 
side  where  the  wings  of  the  chute  come  together,  a  bridge, 
or  causeway,  was  built,  sloping  gently  up  from  the  prairie  to 
the  walls  of  the  corral,  which  at  this  pf)int  were  cut  away  to 
the  height  of  the  bridge  above  the  ground,  —  here  about  four 


HUNTING  231 

feet,  —  so  that  the  animals  running  up  the  causeway  could  jump 
down  into  the  corral.    The  causeway  was  fenced  in  on  either 
side  by  logs,  so  that  the  bufdilo  could  not  run  off  it.     After 
they  had  been  lured  within  the  wings  of  the  chute,  they  were 
driven  toward  the  corral  as  already  described.     When  they 
reached  the  end  of  the  >,  they  ran  up  the  bridge,  and  jumped 
down  into  the  pen.     When  it  was  full,  or  all  had  entered, 
Indians,  who  had  lain  hidden  near  by,  ran  upon  the  bridge, 
and  placed  poles,  prepared  beforehand,  across  the  opening 
through  wliich  the  animals  had  entered,  and  over  these  poles 
hung  robes,  so  as  entirely  to  close  the  opening.    The  buffalo 
will  not  dash  themselves  against  a  barrier  which  is  entirely 
closed,  even  though  it  be  very  frail ;  but  if  they  can  see 
through  it  to  the  outside,  they  will  rush  against  it,  and  their 
great  weight  and  strength  make  it  easy  for  them  to  break 
down  any  but  a  heavy  wall.     Mr.  Hugh  Monroe  tells  me 
that  he  has  seen  a  pis'kun  built  of  willow  brush ;  and  the 
Cheyennes  have  stated  to  me  that  their  buffalo  corrals  were 
often  built  of  brush.     Sometimes,  if  the  walls  of  the  pis'kun 
were  not  high,  the  buffalo  tried  to  jump  or  climb  over  them, 
and,  in  doing  this,  might  break  them  down,  and  some  or  all 
escape.      As  soon,  however,   as  the  animals  were    in   the 
corral,  the  peoi)lc — women  and  children  included  —  ran  up 
and  showed  themselves  all  about  the  walls,  and  by  their  cries 
kept  the  buffalo  from  pressing  against  the  walls.     The  ani- 
mals ran  round  and  round  within,  and  the  men  standing  on 
the  walls  shot  them  down  as  they  passed.     The  butchering 
was  done  in  the  pis'kir    and  after  this  was  over,  the   place 
was  cleaned  out,  the  heads,  feet,  and  least  perishable  offal 
being  removed.     Wolves,  foxes,  badgers,  and    other  small 
carnivorous  animals  visited  the  pis'kun,  and  soon  made  away 
with  the  entrails. 

In  winter,  when  the  snow  was  on  the  ground,  and  the 
buffalo  were  to  be  led  to  the  pis'kun,  the  following  method 
was  adopted  to  keep  the  herd  travelling   in   the  desired 


IFT 


i  1 


!        t 


\ 


:  i;      ,           1 

■   i              ,[ 

1 

1;     1 

^      ^   ll 

11         il 

1  : 

232 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


direction  after  they  had  got  between  the  wings  of  the  chute. 
A  line  of  buffalo  chips,  each  one  supported  on  three  small 
sticks,  so  that  it  stood  a  few  inches  above  the  snow,  was 
carried  from  the  mouth  of  the  pis'kun  straight  out  toward 
the  prairie.  The  chips  were  about  thirty  feet  apart,  and 
ran  midway  between  the  wings  of  the  chute.  This  line  was, 
of  course,  conspicuous  against  the  white  snow,  and  when  the 
buftalo  were  running  down  the  chute,  they  always  followed 
it,  never  turning  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left.  In  the  latter 
days  of  the  pis'kun,  the  man  who  led  the  buffalo  was  often 
mounted  on  a  white  horse. 

Often,  when  they  drove  the  buffalo  over  a  high  vertical 
cliff,  no  corral  was  built  beneath.  Most  of  those  driven 
over  were  killed  or  disabled  by  the  fall,  and  only  a  few  got 
away.  The  pis'kuns,  as  a  rule,  were  built  under  low-cut 
bluffs,  and  sometimes  tlie  buffalo  were  driven  in  by  moon- 
light. 

In  connecdon  with  the  subject  of  leading  or  decoying  the 
buffiilo,  another  matter  not  generally  known  may  be  men- 
tioned. Sometimes,  as  a  matter  of  convenience,  a  herd  was 
brought  from  a  long  distance  close  up  to  the  camp.  This 
was  usually  done  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  when  the  horses 
were  thin  in  flesh  and  not  in  condition  to  stand  a  long  chase. 
I  myself  have  never  seen  this ;  but  my  friend,  William 
Jackson,  was  once  present  at  such  a  drive  by  the  Red  River 
half-breeds,  and  has  described  to  me  the  way  in  which  it 
was  done. 

The  camp  was  on  Box  Elder  Creek  near  the  Musselshell 
River.  It  was  in  the  spring  of  1881,  and  the  horses  were 
all  pretty  well  run  down  and  thin,  so  that  their  owners 
wished  to  spare  them  as  much  as  possible.  The  buffalo 
were  seven  or  eight  miles  distant,  anil  two  men  were  sent 
out  to  bring  them  to  the  camp.  Other  men,  leading  fresh 
horses,  went  with  them,  and  hid  themselves  among  the  hills 
at  different  points  along  the  course  that  the  buffalo  were 


I 


'   ii 


y-r^ 


I 


HUNTING  233 

expected  to  take,  at  intervals  of  a  mile  and  a  half.  They 
watched  the  herd,  and  were  on  hantl  to  supply  the  fresh 
horses  to  the  men  who  were  bringing  it. 

The  buffalo  were  on  a  wide  flat,  and  the  men  rode  over 
the  hill  and  advanced  toward  the  herd  at  a  walk.  At  length 
the  buffalo  noticed  them,  and  began  t.)  huddle  up  together 
and  to  walk  about,  and  at  length  to  walk  away.  Then  the 
men  turned,  and  rode  along  parallel  to  the  buffalo's  course, 
and  at  the  same  gait  that  these  were  taking.  When  the 
buffalo  began  to  trot,  the  men  trotted,  and  when  the  herd 
began  to  lope,  the  men  loped,  and  at  length  they  were  all 
running  pretty  fast.  The  men  kept  about  half  a  mile  from 
the  herd,  and  up  even  with  the  leaders.  As  they  ran, 
the  herd  kept  const...  dy  edging  a  little  toward  the  riders, 
as  if  trying  to  cross  in  front  of  them.  This  inclination 
toward  the  men  was  least  when  they  were  far  off,  and 
greatest  when  they  drew  nearer  to  them.  At  no  time  were 
the  men  nearer  to  the  herd  than  four  hundred  yards.  If 
the  buffalo  edged  too  much  toward  the  riders,  so  that  the 
course  they  were  taking  would  lead  them  away  from  camp, 
the  men  would  drop  back  and  cross  over  behind  the  herd 
to  the  other  side,  and  then,  pushing  their  horses  hard,  would 
come  up  with  the  leaders,  —  but  still  at  a  distance  from 
them,  —  and  then  the  buffalo  would  begin  to  edge  toward 
them,  and  the  herd  would  be  brought  back  again  to  the 
desired  course.  If  necessary,  this  was  repeated,  and  so 
the  buffalo  were  kept  travelling  in  a  course  approximately 
straight. 

By  the  time  the  buffalo  had  got  pretty  near  to  the  camp, 
.;iey  were  pretty  well  winded,  and  the  tongues  of  many 
of  them  were  hanging  out.  This  herd  was  led  up  among 
the  rolling  hills  about  a  mile  from  the  camp,  and  there  the 
people  were  waiting  for  them,  and  charged  them,  when 
the  herd  broke  up,  the  animals  running  in  every  direction. 

Occasionally  it  would  happen  that   for  a  long  time  the 


r 


234 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


buffalo  would  not  be  found  in  a  i)l;xce  favorable  for  driving 
over  the  cliff  or  into  a  i)en.  In  such  cases,  tlie  Indians 
would  steal  out  on  foot,  and,  on  a  day  when  there  was  no 
wind,  would  stealthily  surround  the  l^'^rd.  Then  they  would 
startle  the  buffalo,  and  yet  would  keep  them  from  breaking 
through  the  circle.  The  buffalo  would  "  mill  "  around  until 
exhausted,  and  at  length,  when  worn  out,  would  be  shot 
down  by  the  Indians.  This  corresponds  almost  exactly 
with  one  of  the  methods  employed  in  killing  buffalo  by  the 
Pawnees  in  early  days  before  they  had  horses.'  In  those 
days  the  Pi-kun'-i  were  very  numerous,  and  sometimes  when 
a  lot  of  buffalo  were  found  in  a  favorable  position,  and  there 
was  no  wind,  the  people  would  surround  them,  and  set  up 
their  lodges  about  them,  thus  practically  building  a  corral  of 
lodges.  After  all  preparations  had  been  made,  they  would 
frighten  the  buffalo,  which,  being  afraid  to  ])ass  through 
between  the  lodges,  would  run  round  and  round  in  a  great 
circle,  and  when  they  were  exhausted  the  jieople  would  kill 
them. 

Then  they  always  had  plenty  of  buffalo  —  if  not  fresh 
meat,  that  which  they  had  dried.  For  in  winter  they 
would  kill  large  numbers  of  buffalo,  and  would  prepare 
great  stores  of  dried  meat.  As  spring  opened,  the  buflalo 
would  move  down  to  the  more  Hat  prairie  country  away 
from  the  pis'kuns.  Then  the  Blackfeet  would  also  move 
away.  As  winter  drew  near,  the  buffalo  would  again  move 
up  close  to  the  mountains,  and  the  Indians,  as  food  began 
to  become  scarce,  would  follow  them  toward  the  pis'kuns. 
In  the  last  of  the  summer  and  early  autumn,  they  always  had 
runners  out,  looking  for  the  buffalo,  to  find  where  they  were, 
and  which  way  they  were  moving.  In  the  early  autumn,  all 
the  pis'kuns  were  repaired  and  strengthened,  so  as  to  be  in 
good  order  for  winter. 

In   the  days  before  they  had  horses,  and   even  in   later 

1  Pawnee  Hero  Stories  aiul  Folk-Tales,  p.  250. 


' 


J 


1 


HUNTING  235 

times  when  the  ground  was  of  snch  a  character  as  to  pre- 
vent running  the  buffiiio,  an  ingenious  method  of  still-hunt- 
ing them  was  practised.  A  story  told  by  Hugh  Monroe 
illustrates  it.  lie  said :  "  I  was  often  detailed  by  the 
Hudson's  I'ay  Company  to  go  out  in  charge  of  a  number  of 
men,  to  kill  meat  for  the  fort.  When  the  ground  was  full 
of  holes  and  wash-outs,  so  that  running  was  dangerous,  I 
used  to  put  on  a  big  timber  wolf's  skin,  which  I  carried  for 
the  purpose,  tying  it  at  my  neck  and  waist,  and  then  to  sneak 
up  to  the  buffalo.  I  used  a  bow  and  arrows,  and  generally 
shot  a  number  without  alarming  them.  If  one  looked  sus- 
piciously at  me,  I  wcndd  howl  like  a  wolf.  Sometimes  the 
smell  of  the  blood  from  the  wounded  and  dying  would  set 
the  brlls  crazy.  They  would  run  up  and  lick  the  blood, 
and  sometimes  toss  the  dead  ones  clear  from  the  gromid. 
Then  they  would  bellow  and  fight  each  other,  sometimes 
goring  one  another  so  badly  that  they  died.  The  great 
bulls,  their  tongues  covered  with  blood,  their  eyes  flashing, 
and  tails  sticking  out  straight,  roaring  and  fighting,  were  ter- 
rible to  see  ;  and  it  was  a  little  dangerous,  for  me,  because 
the  commotion  would  attract  buffalo  from  all  directions  to 
see  what  was  going  on.  At  such  times,  I  would  signal  to 
my  men,  and  they  would  ride  u[j  and  scare  the  buffalo 
away." 

In  more  modern  times,  the  height  of  pleasure  to  a  l?lack- 
foot  was  to  ride  a  good  horse  and  run  buffalo.  When  bows 
and  arrows,  and,  later,  muzzledoadiiig  "  fukes "  were  the 
only  weapons,  no  more  buffiilo  were  killed  than  could  act- 
ually be  utilized.  Hut  after  the  ^^■inchester  repeater  came 
in  use,  it  seemed  as  if  the  different  tribes  vied  with  each 
other  in  wanton  slaughter.  I'rovided  with  one  of  these 
weapons  and  a  couple  of  belts  of  cartridges,  the  hunters 
would  run  as  long  as  their  horses  could  keep  up  with  the 
band,  and  literally  cover  the  i^rairie  with  carcasses,  many  of 
which  wera  never  even  skinned. 


236 


I 


Ij 


THE    STOKV    OF    THE    THREE    TKlliES 


Aniki.opk 


It  is  said  that  once  in  early  limes  the  men  determined  that 
they  would  use  antelope  skins  for  their  women's  dresses,  in- 
stead of  cowskins.  So  they  found  a  place  where  antelope 
were  i)lenty,  and  set  u[)  on  tlie  prairie  long  lines  of  rock 
piles,  or  of  bushes,  so  as  to  form  a  chute  like  a  >  ,  Near 
the  ])oint  where  the  lines  joined,  they  dug  deep  pits,  which 
they  roofed  with  slender  ])oIes,  and  covered  these  with  grass 
and  a  little  dirt.  Then  the  people  scattered  out,  and  while 
most  of  them  hid  behind  the  rock  piles  and  bushes,  a  few 
started  the  antelope  toward  the  mouth  of  the  chute.  As 
they  ran  by  them,  the  peo])le  showeil  themselves  and  yelled, 
and  the  antelope  ran  down  the  chute  and  finally  reached 
the  pits,  and  falling  into  them  were  taken,  when  they  were 
killed  and  divided  among  the  hunters.  .Afterward,  this  was 
the  common  method  of  securing  antelopes  up  to  the  coming 
of  the  whites. 

Eagles 

Before  the  whites  came  to  the  IMackfoot  country,  the 
Indian  standard  of  value  was  eagle  tail-feathers.  Tiiey  were 
used  to  make  war  head-dresses,  to  tie  on  the  head,  and  to 
ornament  sliields,  lances,  and  other  weapons.  IJesides  this, 
the  wings  were  used  for  fans,  and  the  body  feathers  for  ar- 
row-making. Always  a  wary  bird,  the  eagle  couUl  seldom  be 
approached  near  enough  for  killing  with  the  bow  and  arrow  ; 
an  1,  in  fact,  it  seems  as  if  it  was  considered  improper  to  kill 
it  in  that  way.  The  capture  of  these  birds  appears  to  have 
had  about  it  something  of  a  sacred  nature,  and,  as  was 
always  the  case  among  wild  Indians  when  anything  impor- 
tant was  to  be  undertaken,  it  was  invariably  jireceded  by 
earnest  prayers  to  the  Deity  for  help  and  for  success. 

There  are  still  living  many  men  who  have  caught  eagles 
in  the  ancient  method,  and,  from  several  of  these,  accounts 
have  been  received,  which,  while  essentially  similar,  yet  dif- 


1 


HUNTING  237 

fer  in  certain  particulars,  especially  in  the  explanations  of 
certain  features  of  the  ceremony. 

Wolf  Calfs  account  of  this  ceremony  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  A  man  who  started  out  to  catch  eagles  moved  his  lodge 
and  his  fixmily  away  from  the  main  camp,  to  some  place 
where  the  birds  were  abundant,  A  spot  was  chosen  on  top 
of  a  mound  or  butte  within  a  few  miles  of  his  lodge,  and 
here  he  dug  a  pit  in  the  ground  as  long  as  his  body  and 
somewhat  deeper.  The  earth  removed  was  carried  away  to 
a  distance,  and  scattered  about  so  as  to  make  no  show. 
When  the  pit  had  been  made  large  enough,  it  was  roofed 
over  with  small  willow  sticks,  on  which  grass  was  scattered, 
and  over  the  grass  a  little  earth  and  stones  were  laid,  so  as 
to  give  the  place  a  natural  look,  like  the  prairie  all  about 
it. 

"  The  bait  was  a  piece  of  bloody  neck  of  a  buffalo.  This, 
of  course,  could  be  seen  a  long  way  off,  and  by  the  meat  a 
stuffed  wolf  skin  was  often  placed,  standing  up,  as  if  the 
animal  were  eating.  To  the  piece  of  neck  was  tied  a  rope, 
which  passed  down  through  the  roof  of  the  pit  and  was  held 
in  the  watcher's  hand. 

"  After  all  had  been  made  ready,  the  next  day  the  man 
rose  very  early,  before  it  was  light,  and,  after  smoking  and 
praying,  left  his  camp,  telling  his  wives  and  children  not  to 
use  an  awl  while  he  was  gone.  He  endeavored  to  reach  the 
l)it  early  in  the  morning,  before  it  became  light,  and  lay  down 
in  it,  taking  with  him  a  slender  stick  about  six  feet  long,  a 
human  skull,  and  a  little  pemmican.     Then  he  waited. 

"  When  the  morning  came,  and  the  eagles  were  flying, 
one  of  them  would  see  the  meat  and  descend  to  take  it 
away  from  the  wolf.  Finding  it  held  fast  by  the  rope,  the 
bird  began  to  feed  on  it ;  and  while  it  was  pecking  at  the  bait, 
the  watcher  seized  it  by  the  legs,  and  drew  it  into  the  pit, 
where  he  killed  it,  cither  by  twisting  its  nock,  or  by  crushing 
it  with  his  knees.      Then  he  laid  it  to  one  side,  first  opening 


238 


THE    STURV    Of    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


ii 


ir 


the  bill  and  putting  a  Ii  tie  piece  of  pemmican  in  its  mouth. 
This  was  done  to  niak  the  other  eagles  hungry.  While  he 
was  in  the  pit,  the  man  neither  ate,  drank,  nor  slept.  He 
had  a  sleeping-place  not  far  off,  to  which  he  repaired  each 
night  after  dark,  and  there  he  ate  and  drank. 

"  The  reason  for  taking  the  skull  into  the  hole  with  the 
catcher  was,  in  part,  for  his  protection.  It  was  believed 
that  the  ghost  of  the  person  to  whom  the  skull  had  belonged 
would  })rotect  the  watcher  against  harm  from  the  eagle,  and 
besides  that,  the  skull,  or  ghost,  would  make  the  watcher 
invisible,  like  a  ghost.      The  eagle  would  not  see  him. 

"  The  stick  was  used  to  i)oke  or  (lri\e  away  smaller  birds, 
such  as  magpies,  crows,  and  ravens,  which  might  alight  on 
the  roof  of  the  pit,  and  try  to  feed  on  the  bait.  It  was  used, 
also,  to  drive  away  the  white-headed  eagle,  which  they  did 
not  care  to  catch.  These  are  powerful  birds ;  they  could 
almost  kill  a  person. 

''There  are  two  sacred  things  connected  with  the  catch- 
ing of  eagles,  —  two  things  which  must  be  observed  if  the 
eagle-catcher  is  to  have  good  luck.  The  man  who  is  watch- 
ing must  not  eat  rosebuds.  If  he  does,  the  eagle,  when  he 
comes  down  and  alights  by  the  bait,  will  begin  to  scratch 
himself  and  will  not  attack  the  bait,  'i'he  rosebuds  will 
make  him  itch.  Neither  the  man  nor  his  wife  nuist  use  an 
awl  while  he  is  absent  from  his  lodge,  anil  is  trving  to  catch 
the  birds.  If  this  is  done,  the  eagles  will  scratch  the  catcher. 
Sometimes  one  man  would  catch  a  great  many  eagles." 

In  his  day,  John  Monroe  was  a  lainous  eagle-catcher,  an  I 
he  has  given  me  the  following  account  of  the  melh(jd  as  lie 
has  practised  it.  The  pit  is  dug,  six  feet  long,  three  wide, 
and  four  deep,  on  top  of  the  highest  knoll  that  can  be  found 
near  a  stream.  The  earth  taken  out  is  carried  a  long  way 
off.  Over  the  pit  they  put  two  long  poles,  one  on  each 
!iide,  running  lengthwise  of  the  pit,  and  otiier  smaller  sticks 
are  laid  across,  resting  on  the  poles.     The  smaller  sticks  are 


HUNTING  239 

covered  with  juniper  twigs  and  long  grass.  The  skin  of  a 
wolf,  coyote,  or  fox,  is  stuffed  with  grass,  and  made  to  look 
as  natural  as  possible.  A  hole  is  cut  in  the  wolf  skin  and 
a  rope  is  passed  through  it,  one  end  being  tied  to  a  large 
piece  of  meat  which  lies  by  the  skin,  and  the  other  passing 
through  the  roof  down  into  the  pit.  The  bait  is  now  cov- 
ered with  grass,  and  the  man  returns  to  his  lodge  for  the 
night. 

During  the  night,  he  sings  his  eagle  songs  and  burns 
sweet  grass  for  the  eagles,  rubliing  the  smoke  over  his  own 
body  to  purify  himself,  so  that  on  the  morrow  he  will  give 
out  no  scent.  Before  day  he  leaves  his  lodge  without  eat- 
ing or  drinking,  goes  to  the  pit  and  lies  down  in  it.  He 
uncovers  the  bait,  arranges  the  roof,  and  sits  there  all  day 
holding  the  rope.  Crows  and  other  birds  alight  by  the  bait 
and  peck  at  it,  but  he  pays  no  attention  to  them. 

The  eagle,  sailing  about  high  in  air,  sees  the  bait,  and 
settles  down  slowly.  It  takes  it  a  long  time  to  make  up  its 
mind  to  come  to  the  bait.  In  the  pit,  the  man  can  hear  the 
sound  of  the  eagle  coming.  When  the  bird  setdes  on  the 
ground,  it  does  not  alight  on  the  bait,  but  at  one  side  of  it, 
striking  the  ground  with  a  thud  —  heavily.  The  man  never 
mistakes  anything  else  for  that  sound.  The  eagle  walks 
toward  the  bait,  anil  all  the  other  birds  fly  away.  It  walks 
on  to  the  roof;  and,  through  the  crevices  that  have  been  left 
between  the  sticks,  the  man  can  see  in  which  direction  the 
bird's  head  is.  He  carefully  pushes  the  stick  aside  and, 
reaching  out,  grasps  the  eagle  by  the  two  feet.  The  bird 
does  not  struggle  niuch.  Ii  is  drawn  down  into  the  pit,  and 
the  man  wrings  its  neck.  Then  the  opening  is  closed, 
and  the  roof  arranged  as  before.  So  the  man  waits  and 
catches  the  eagles  that  come  through  the  day.  Sometimes  he 
sits  all  day  and  gets  nothing ;  again  he  may  get  eight  or  ten 
in  a  day. 

When  darkness  comes,  the  man  leaves  his  hiding-place. 


240 


THE    .^.TORY    OF    THE    TIIKEF.    TRIBES 


takes  his  eagles,  and  goes  home.  He  carries  the  birds  to  a 
special  lodge,  prepartnl  outside  of  the  camp,  which  is  called 
the  eagles'  lodge.  He  jjlaces  them  on  the  ground  in  a  row, 
and  raises  their  heads,  resting  them  on  a  stick  laid  in  front 
of  the  row.  In  the  mouth  of  each  one  is  put  a  piece  of 
pemmican,  so  that  they  may  not  be  afraid  of  the  peoi)le. 
The  object  of  feeding  the  eagles  is  that  their  spirits  may  tell 
other  eagles  how  they  are  being  treated  —  that  they  arc 
being  fed  by  the  people.  In  the  lodge  is  a  human  skull, 
and  they  pray  to  it,  asking  the  ghost  to  help  them  get  the 
eagles. 

It  is  said  that  in  one  pit,  once,  forty  eagles  were  killed  in 
a  day.  The  larger  hawks  were  caught,  as  well  as  eagles, 
though  the  latter  were  the  most  highly  valued.  Five  eagles 
used  to  be  worth  a  good  horse,  a  valuation  which  shows  that, 
in  the  Blackfoot  country,  eagles  were  more  ])lenty,  or  horses 
more  valuable,  than  farther  south,  where,  in  old  times,  two 
eagles  would  purchase  a  horse. 


Other  Game 


They  had  no  special  means  of  capturing  deer  in  any  num- 
bers. These  were  usually  killed  singly.  The  hunters  used 
to  creep  up  on  elk  and  deer  in  the  brush,  and  when  they 
had  come  close  to  them,  they  could  drive  even  their  stone- 
]iointed  arrows  deep  in  the  tlesh.  Often  their  game  was 
killed  dead  on  the  spot,  but  if  not,  they  left  it  alone  until 
the  next  day,  when,  on  going  back  to  the  place,  it  was  usu- 
ally found  near  by.  either  dead  or  so  desperately  wounded 
that  they  could  secure  it. 

Deadfalls  were  used  to  catch  wolves,  foxes,  and  other  fur 
animals,  and  small  apertures  in  the  ])is'kun  walls  were  pro- 
vided with  nooses  and  snares  for  the  same  purpose. 

.\nother  way  to  catch  wolves  and  coyotes  was  to  set 
heavy  stakes  in  the  ground  in  a  circle,  about  the  carcasses 


HUNTING  241 

of  one  or  two  dead  buffalo.  The  stakes  were  placed  at  an 
angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees,  a  few  inches  apart,  and  all 
pointing  toward  the  centre  of  the  circle.  At  one  place,  dirt 
was  piled  up  against  the  stakes  from  the  outside,  and  the 
'  wolves,  climbing  up  on  this,  jumped  down  into  the  enclos- 

ure, but  were  unable  to  jump  out.  Hugh  Monroe  tells  me 
that,  about  thirty  years  ago,  he  and  his  sons  made  a  trap 
like  this,  and  in  one  night  caught  eighty-three  wolves  and 
coyotes. 

In  early  times,  beaver  were  very  abundant  and  very  tame, 
and  were  shot  with  bows  and  arrows. 

The  Blackfeet  were  splendid  prairie  hunters.  They  had 
no  superiors  in  the  art  of  stalking  and  killing  such  wary  ani- 
mals as  the  antelope.  Sometimes  they  wore  hats  made  of 
the  skin  and  horns  of  an  antelope  head,  which  were  very 
useful  when  approaching  the  game.  Although  the  prairie 
was  pre-eminently  their  hunting-ground,  they  were  also  skil- 
ful in  climbing  mountains  and  killing  sheep  and  goats.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  northern  Crees,  who  also  are  a  prairie 
people,  are  poor  mountain  hunters. 


THE   BLACKFOOT   IN    WAR 

The  Blackfeet  were  a  warlike  people.  How  it  may  have 
been  in  the  old  days,  before  the  coming  of  the  white  men, 
we  do  not  know.  Very  likely,  in  early  times,  they  were 
usually  at  peace  with  neighboring  tribes,  or,  if  (juarrels  took 
place,  battles  were  fought,  and  men  killed,  this  was  only  in 
angry  dispute  over  what  each  party  considered  its  riglits. 
Their  wars  were  probably  not  general,  nor  could  they  have 
been  very  bloody.  A\'hen,  however,  horses  came  into  the 
possession  of  the  Indians,  all  this  must  have  soon  become 
changed.  Hitherto  there  had  really  been  no  incentive  to 
war.  From  time  to  time  expeditions  may  have  gone  out 
to  kill  enemies,  —  for  glory,  or  to  take  revenge  for  some 
injury,  —  but  war  had  not  yet  been  made  desirable  by  the 
hope  of  plunder,  for  none  of  their  neiglibors  —  any  more 
than  themselves  —  had  jjroperty  whi(  h  was  worth  capturing 
and  taking  away.  Primitive  arms,  dogs,  clothing,  and  dried 
meat  were  common  to  all  the  tribes,  and  were  their  only 
possessions,  and  usually  each  tribe  had  an  abundance  of  all 
these.  It  was  not  worth  any  man's  while  to  make  long 
journeys  and  to  run  into  danger  merely  to  increase  his  store 
of  such  property,  when  his  present  possessions  were  more 
than  sufficient  to  meet  all  his  wants.  Even  if  such  things 
had  seemed  desirable  plunder,  the  amount  of  it  which  could 
be  carried  away  was  limited,  since  —  for  a  war  party  —  the 
only  means  of  transporting  captured  articles  from  place  to 
place  was  on  men's  backs,  nor  could  men  burdened  with 
loads  either  run  or  fight.  But  when  horses  became  known, 
242 


I! 
I 


If 


nji 


THK    J5LACKFOOT    IN    WAR 


243 


and  the  Indians  began  to  realize  what  a  change  the  posses- 
sion of  these  animals  was  working  in  their  mode  of  life,  when 
they  saw  that,  by  enormously  increasing  the  transporting 
power  of  each  family,  horses  made  for  greater  possessions 
practicable,  that  they  insured  the  food  supply,  rendered  the 
moving  of  the  camp  easier  aiul  more  rapid,  made  possible 
long  journeys  with  a  minimum  of  effort,  and  that  they  had  a 
value  for  trading,  the  Blackfoot  mind  received  a  new  idea, 
the  idea  that  it  was  desirable  to  accumulate  property.  The 
Blackfoot  saw  tliat,  since  horses  could  be  exchanged  for 
everything  that  was  worth  having,  no  one  had  as  many  horses 
as  he  needed.  A  pretty  wife,  a  handsome  war  bonnet,  a 
strong  bow,  a  iinely  ornamented  woman's  dress,  —  any  or  all 
of  these  things  a  man  might  obtain,  if  he  had  horses  to 
trade  for  them.  The  gambler  at  "  hands,"  or  at  the  ring 
game,  could  bet  horses.  The  man  who  was  devoted  to  his 
last  married  wife  could  give  her  a  horse  as  an  evidence  of 
his  affection. 

We  can  readily  understand  what  a  change  the  advent  of 
the  horse  must  have  worked  in  the  minds  of  a  people  like 
the  Ijlackfeet,  and  how  this  changed  mental  attitude  would 
react  on  the  Hhukfoot  way  of  living.  At  first,  there  were 
but  few  horses  among  them,  but  they  knew  that  their  neigh- 
bors to  the  west  and  south  —  across  the  mountains  and  on 
the  great  plains  beyond  the  Missouri  and  the  Yellowstone  — 
hail  i)lenty  of  them  ;  that  the  Kutenais,  the  Kalispels,  the 
Snakes,  tiie  Crows,  ami  tiie  Sioux  were  well  provided.  They 
soon  learned  that  horses  were  easily  driven  off,  and  that, 
even  if  followed  by  those  whose  property  they  had  taken, 
the  pursued  had  a  great  advantage  over  the  pursuers ;  and 
we  may  feel  sure  that  it  was  not  long  before  the  idea  of 
capturing  horses  from  the  enemy  entered  some  IMackfoot 
head  and  was  put  into  practice. 

Now  began  a  systematic  sending  forth  of  war  parties  against 
neighboring  tribes  for  the  purpose  of  capturing  horses,  which 


i      '  i 

r 

i 

1 

.     ll 


244 


THE    STORY    OV    THE    THREE    TR115ES 


continued  for  about  seventy-five  or  eighty  years,  and  has 
only  been  abandoned  within  the  last  six  or  seven,  and  since 
the  settlement  of  the  country  by  the  whites  made  it  impos- 
sible for  the  l?lackfeet  longer  to  pass  backward  and  forward 
through  it  on  their  raiding  expeditions.  Horse-taking  at 
once  became  what  miglit  be  called  an  established  industry 
among  the  Blackfcet.  Success  l)rought  wealth  and  fame, 
and  there  was  a  pleasing  excitement  about  the  war  journey. 
Except  during  the  bitterest  weather  of  the  winter,  war 
])arties  of  IHackfect  were  constantly  out,  searching  for 
camps  of  their  enemies,  from  wlioni  they  might  capture 
horses.  Usually  the  only  object  of  such  an  expedition  was 
to  secure  plunder,  but  often  enemies  were  killed,  and  some- 
times the  party  set  out  with  the  distinct  intention  of  taking 
both  scalps  and  horses. 

Until  some  time  after  they  had  obtained  guns,  the  Black- 
feet  were  on  excellent  terms  with  the  northern  Crees,  but  later 
the  Chiiipeways  from  the  east  made  war  on  the  Blackfeet, 
and  this  l)rought  about  general  hostilities  against  all  Crees, 
which  have  continued  up  to  within  a  few  years.  If  I  recol- 
lect aright,  the  last  fight  which  occurred  between  the  Pi- 
kun'-i  and  the  Crees  took  jilace  in  18S6.  In  this  skirmish, 
which  followed  an  attempt  by  the  Crees  to  capture  some 
Piegan  horses,  my  friend,  Tail-feathers-coming-in-sight-over- 
the-Hill,  killed  and  counted  <v'///>  on  a  Cree  whose  scalp  he 
afterward  sent  me,  as  an  evidence  of  his  prowess. 

The  Cros  Ventres  of  the  prairie,  of  Arapaho  stock,  known 
to  the  Blackfcet  as  .If-si'n  a,  or  Cut  People,  had  been  friends 
and  allies  of  the  Blackfeet  from  the  time  they  first  came  into 
the  country,  early  in  this  century,  u])  to  about  the  year  1862, 
when,  according  to  Clark,  ]u'ace  was  l)roken  through  a  mis- 
take.' .X  war  party  of  Snakes  had  gone  to  a  Gros  Ventres 
camp  near  the  Bear  I'aw  Mountains  and  there  killed  two 
Ciros  Ventres  and  tak'^-n   a  white   pony,  which  they  subse- 

1  Iiulian  Si;;n  l,;inijiia,t;(",  p.  70. 


\ 


L 


THE    HLACKFOOT    IN    WAR 


245 


quently  gave  to  a  party  of  Piegans  whom  they  met,  and  with 
whom  they  made  peace.  The  (Iros  Ventres  afterward  saw 
this  horse  in  the  Piegan  camp  and  supposed  that  the  latter 
had  killed  their  tribesman,  and  this  led  to  a  long  war.  In 
the  year  1867,  the  Piegans  defeated  the  allied  Crows  and 
(iros  Ventres  in  a  great  battle  near  the  ("y])ress  iMountains, 
in  which  about  450  of  the  enemy  are  said  to  have  been 
killed. 

An  expression  often  used  in  these  pages,  and  wiiich  is  so 
familiar  to  one  who  has  livetl  much  with  Indians  as  to  need 
no  explanation,  is  the  phrase  to  count  couf^.  Like  many 
of  the  terms  common  in  the  Northwest,  this  one  comes 
down  to  us  from  the  old  French  trappers  and  traders,  and  a 
coup  is,  of  course,  a  blow.  As  commonly  used,  the  exi)res- 
sion  is  almost  a  direct  translation  of  the  Indian  phrase  to 
strike  the  enemy,  which  is  in  ordinary  use  among  all  tribes. 
This  striking  is  the  literal  inflicting  a  blow  on  an  individual, 
and  does  not  mean  merely  the  attack  on  a  body  of  enemies. 

The  most  creditable  act  tliat  an  Indian  can  perform  is  to 
show  tiiat  he  is  Ijrave,  to  ])rove,  by  some  daring  deed,  his 
jihysical  courage,  his  lack  of  fear.  In  practice,  this  courage 
is  shown  by  approaching  near  enough  to  an  enemy  to  strike 
or  touch  him  with  sometliing  that  is  held  in  the  hand  —  to 
come  up  within  arm's  length  of  him.  To  kill  an  enemy  is 
])raiseworthy,  and  the  act  of  scal|)ing  him  may  l)e  so  under 
certain  circumstances,  but  neither  of  these  approaches  in 
bravery  the  hitting  or  touching  him  with  something  held  in 
tiie  hand.     This  is  counting  coup. 

The  man  who  does  this  shows  himself  without  fear  and  is 
respected  accordingly.  With  certain  tribes,  as  the  Pawnees, 
Cheyennes,  and  others,  it  was  not  very  uncommon  for  a 
warrior  to  dash  up  to  an  enemy  and  strike  liim  before  mak- 
ing any  attempt  to  injure  him,  the  effort  to  kill  being 
secondary  to  the  coup.  The  blow  might  be  struck  with 
anything  held  in  the  hand,  —  a  whip,  coupstick,  club,  lance, 


J46 


THK    STOKV    OF     Till-.    TIIKI.K    TRIBES 


the  muzzle  of  a  gun,  a  bow,  or  what  not.  It  did  not  neces- 
sarily follow  that  the  person  i)n  whom  the  coup  had  been 
counted  would  be  injured.  'I"he  a(  I  was  performed  in  the 
case  of  a  woman,  who  might  be  captured,  or  even  on  a 
child,  who  was  being  made  prisoner. 

Often  the  dealing  the  coup  showed  a  very  high  degree 
of  courage.  As  already  imjjlied.  it  might  be  counted  on  a 
man  who  was  defending  himself  most  desperately,  and  was 
trying  his  best  to  kill  the  approaching  enemy,  or,  even  if 
the  attempt  was  being  made  on  a  foe  who  had  fallen,  it  was 
never  certain  that  he  was  beyond  the  power  of  inllicting  injury. 
He  might  be  only  wounded,  and,  just  when  the  enemy  had 
come  close  to  him,  and  was  about  to  strike,  he  might  have 
strength  enough  left  to  raise  himself  up  and  shoot  him  dead. 
In  their  old  wars,  the  Indians  rarely  took  men  captive.  The 
warrior  never  exi)ected  quarter  nor  gave  it,  and  usually  men 
fought  to  the  death,  and  died  mute,  defending  themselves  to 
the  last  —  to  the  last,  striving  to  inflict  some  injury  on  the 
enemy. 

The  striking  the  blow  was  an  important  event  in  a  man's 
life,  and  he  who  performed  this  feat  remembered  it.  He 
counted  it.  It  was  a  proud  day  for  the  young  warrior  when 
he  counted  his  first  coup,  and  each  subsecjuent  one  was 
remembered  and  numbered  in  the  warrii)r's  mind,  just  as 
an  American  of  to-day  remembers  the  number  of  times  he 
has  been  elected  to  Congress.  .At  certain  dances  and  relig- 
ious ceremonies,  like  that  of  the  Medicine  Lodge,  the  war- 
riors counted  — or  rather  re-counted  — their  coups. 

While  the  coup  was  primarily,  and  usually,  a  blow  with 
something  held  in  the  hand,  other  acts  in  warfare  which  in- 
volved great  danger  to  him  who  performed  them  were  also 
reckoned  coups  by  some  tribes.  Thus,  for  a  horseman  to 
ride  over  and  knock  down  an  enemy,  who  was  on  foot,  was 
regarded  among  the  IMackfeet  as  a  coup,  for  the  horseman 
might  be  shot  at  close  quarters,  or  might  receive  a  lance 


i  II 


1^       ■      .     itttii^^-^ 


I 


THE    HLACKI'OOT    IN    WAR  247 

thrust.  It  was  the  same  to  ride  one's  horse  violently  against 
a  mounted  foe.  An  old  Pawnee  told  me  of  a  coup  that  he 
had  counted  by  running  up  to  a  fallen  enemy  and  jumping  on 
him  with  both  feet.  Sometimes  the  taking  of  horses  counted 
a  coup,  but  this  was  not  always  the  case. 

As  suggested  by  what  has  been  already  stated,  each  tribe 
of  the  Plains  Indians  held  its  own  view  as  to  what  constituted 
a  coup.  The  Pawnees  were  very  strict  in  their  interpreta- 
tion of  the  term,  and  with  them  an  act  of  daring  was  not  in 
itself  deemetl  a  coup.  This  was  counted  only  when  the  per- 
son of  an  enemy  was  actually  touched.  One  or  two  inci- 
dents which  have  occurred  among  the  Pawnees  will  serve  to 
illustrate  their  notions  on  this  point. 

In  tlie  year  nSGy,  the  Pawnee  scouts  had  been  sent  up  to 
Ogallalla,  Nebraska,  to  guard  the  graders  who  were  work- 
ing on  the  Union  Pacific  railroad.  While  they  were  there, 
some  Sioux  came  down  from  the  hills  and  ran  off  a  few 
mules,  taking  them  across  the  North  Platte.  Major  North 
took  twenty  men  and  started  after  them.  Crossing  the  river, 
and  following  it  up  on  the  north  bank,  he  headed  them  off, 
and  before  long  came  in  sight  of  them. 

The  six  Sioux,  v/lien  ihey  found  that  they  were  pursued, 
left  the  mules  tluU  they  iiad  taken,  and  ran  ;  and  the  Pawnees, 
after  chasing  them  eight  or  ten  miles,  caught  up  with  one  of 
them,  a  brother  of  the  well-known  chief  Spotted  Tail. 
Paptiste  Pahele,  a  half-breed  Skidi,  had  a  very  fast  horse, 
and  was  riding  ahead  of  the  other  Pawnees,  and  shooting 
arrows  at  the  Sioux,  who  was  shooting  back  at  him.  At 
length  Haptiste  shot  the  enemy's  horse  in  the  hip,  and  the 
Indian  dismounted  and  ran  on  foot  toward  a  ravine.  Bap- 
tiste  shot  at  him  again,  and  this  time  sent  an  arrow  nearly 
through  his  body,  so  that  the  point  projected  in  front.  The 
Sioux  caught  the  arrow  by  the  point,  pulled  it  through  his  body, 
and  shot  it  back  at  his  pursuer,  and  came  very  near  hitting 


248 


THE    STORV    OF    Till:    TIIUEK    TKIItKS 


<l! 


i 


him.  About  that  time,  a  ball  from  a  carbine  hit  the  Sioux 
and  knocked  him  down. 

Then  there  was  a  race  between  TJaptiste  and  the  Pawnee 
next  behind  him,  to  see  which  should  count  <v'///>  on  the 
fallen  man.  IJaptiste  was  nearest  to  him  and  reached  him 
first,  but  just  as  he  got  to  him,  and  was  leaning  over  from 
his  horse,  to  strike  the  dead  man,  the  animal  shied  at  the 
body,  swerving  to  one  side,  and  he  failed  to  touch  it.  The 
horse  ridden  by  the  other  Pawnee  ran  right  over  the  Sioux, 
and  his  rider  leaned  down  and  touched  him. 

Paptiste  claimed  the  t(>i//>  —  although  acknowledging  that 
he  had  not  actually  touched  the  man  —  on  the  ground  that 
he  had  exposed  himself  to  all  the  danger,  and  would  have 
hit  the  man  if  his  horse  had  not  swerved  as  it  did  from  the 
body  ;  but  the  Pawnees  would  not  allow  it,  and  all  gave  the 
credit  of  the  C(>///>  to  the  other  boy,  because  he  had  actually 
touched  the  enemy. 

On  another  occasion  three  or  four  young  men  started  on 
the  warpath  from  the  Pawnee  village.  When  they  came 
near  to  Spotted  Tail's  camp  on  the  Platte  River,  they  crossed 
the  stream,  took  some  horses,  and  got  them  safely  across  the 
river.  Then  one  of  the  boys  recrossed,  went  back  to  the 
camp,  and  cut  loose  another  horse.  He  had  almost  got 
this  one  out  of  the  camp,  when  an  Indian  came  out  of  a 
lodge  near  by,  and  sat  down.  The  Pawnee  shot  the  Sioux, 
counted  (W//  on  him,  scalped  him,  and  then  hurried  across 
the  river  with  the  whole  Sioux  camp  in  pursuit.  When  the 
party  returned  to  the  Pawnee  village,  this  boy  was  the  only 
one  who  received  credit  for  a  <w//. 

Among  the  Plackfeel  the  capture  of  a  shield,  bow,  gun, 
war  bonnet,  war  shirt,  or  medicine  i)ipe  was  deemed  a 
cou/>. 

Nothing  gave  a  man  a  higher  place  in  the  estimation  of 
the  people  than  the  counting  of  coups,  for,  I  repeat,  personal 
bravery  is   of  all   (qualities   the  most   highly  res|)ected   by 


' 


1 


ii*^-^ 


TIIK    HLACKFOOT    IN    WAR  249 

Indians.  On  special  occasions,  as  has  been  said,  men 
counted  over  again  in  public  their  coups.  This  served  to 
gratify  personal  vanity,  and  also  to  incite  the  young  men  to 
the  performance  of  similar  brave  deeds,  llesides  this,  they 
often  made  a  more  enduring  record  of  these  acts,  by  re- 
producing them  pictographically  on  robes,  cowskins,  and 
other  hides.  There  is  now  in  my  possession  an  illuminated 
cowskin,  jiresented  to  me  by  Mr.  J.  Kipp,  which  contains 
the  record  of  the  roups  and  the  most  striking  events  in  the 
life  of  Red  Crane,  a  Hlackfoot  warrior,  jxiinted  by  himscif. 
These  pictographs  are  very  rude  and  are  drawn  after  the 
[/  style  common  among  Plains  Indians,  but  no  doubt  they  were 

sufficiently  lifelike  to  call  uj)  to  the  mind  of  the  artist  each 
detail  of  the  stirring  events  which  they  record. 

The  Indian  warrior  who  stood  up  to  relate  some  brave 
deed  which  he  IkuI  jjcrformed  was  almost  always  in  a  posi- 
tion to  prove  the  truth  of  his  statements.  Either  he  had 
the  enemy's  scalp,  or  some  trophy  captured  from  him,  to 
produce  as  evidence,  or  else  he  had  a  witness  of  his  feat  in 
some  companion.  A  man  seldom  boasted  of  any  deed  un- 
less he  was  able  to  prove  his  story,  and  false  statements 
about  exploits  against  the  enemy  were  most  unusual.  Tem- 
porary peace  was  often  made  between  tribes  usually  at  war, 
and,  at  the  friendly  meetings  which  took  place  during  such 
times  of  peace,  former  battles  were  talked  over,  the  per- 
formances of  various  individuals  discussed,  and  the  acts  of 
particular  men  in  the  different  fights  commented  on.  In 
this  way,  if  any  man  had  falsely  claimed  to  have  done  brave 
deeds,  he  would  be  detected. 

An  exami)le  of  this  occurred  many  years  ago  among  the 
Cheyenncs.  .U  that  time,  there  was  a  celebrated  chief  of 
the  Skidi  tribe  of  the  Pawnee  Nation  whose  name  was  Big 
Kagle.  He  was  very  brave,  and  the  Cheyennes  greatly 
feared  him,  and  it  was  agreed  among  them  that  the  man 
who  could  count  coup  on  liig  Ivigle  should  be  made  war 


>     I 


:»50 


THE    STORY    OF    Till.    TIIKKr.    TKIHES 


!i 


i     I 


thief  of  the  Chcycnncs.  After  a  fight  on  the  I,oup  River, 
a  Cheyenne  warrior  claimed  to  have  counted  loiip  on  Hig 
Kagle  by  thrusting  a  lance  through  his  buttocks.  On  the 
strength  of  the  claim,  this  man  was  made  war  chief  of  the 
("heyennes.  Some  years  later,  during  a  friendly  visit  made 
by  the  Pawnees  to  the  Cheyennes,  this  incident  was  men- 
tioned. Hig  ICagle  waij  i)resent  at  the  time,  and,  after  in- 
quiring into  the  matter,  he  rose  in  council,  denied  that  he 
had  ever  been  struck  as  claimed,  and,  throwing  asitle  his 
robe,  called  on  the  Cheyennes  present  to  examine  his  body 
and  to  point  out  the  scars  left  by  the  lance.  None  were 
found.  It  was  seen  that  Dig  Magle  spoke  the  truth  ;  and  the 
lying  Cheyenne,  from  the  proud  position  of  war  chief,  sank 
to  a  point  where  he  was  an  object  of  contempt  to  the  mean- 
est Indian  in  his  tribe. 

Among  the  Ulackfeet  a  war  party  usually,  or  often,  had  its 
origin  in  a  dream.  Some  man  who  has  a  dream,  after  he 
awakes  tells  of  it.  Perhaps  he  may  say  :  "  I  dreamed  that 
on  a  certain  stream  is  a  herd  of  horses  that  have  been  given 
to  me,  and  that  I  am  going  away  to  get.  I  am  going  to  war. 
I  shall  go  to  that  place  and  get  my  band  of  horses."  Then 
the  men  who  know  him,  who  believe  that  his  medicine  is 
strong  and  that  he  will  have  good  luck,  make  up  their 
minds  to  follow  him.  .As  soon  as  he  has  stated  what  he  in- 
tends to  do,  his  women  and  his  female  relations  begin  to 
make  moccasins  for  him,  and  the  old  men  among  his  relations 
begin  to  give  him  arrows  and  powder  and  ball  to  fit  him  out 
for  war.  The  relations  of  those  who  are  going  with  him  do 
the  same  for  them. 

The  leader  notifies  the  young  men  who  are  going  with 
him  on  what  day  and  at  what  hour  he  intends  to  start. 
He  determines  the  time  for  himself,  but  does  not  let  the 
whole  camp  know  it  in  advance.  Of  late  years,  large  war 
parties  have  not  been  desirable.  They  have  preferred  to  go 
out  in  small  bodies. 


r-^^ 


THK    BI.ACK|-0()T    IN    WAR  2$  I 

Just  before  a  war  party  sots  out,  its  members  gel  together 
and  sing  the  "  iieeling  a  stick  song,"  which  is  a  wolf  song. 
Then  they  build  a  sweat  lodge  and  go  into  it,  and  with 
them  goes  in  an  old  man,  a  medicine-pipe  man,  who  has 
been  a  good  warrior.  Ihey  fill  die  pipe  and  ask  him  to 
l)ray  for  them,  that  they  may  have  good  luck,  and  may  ac- 
comi)lish  what  they  tlesire.  The  medicine-pipe  man  prays 
and  sings  and  pcurs  water  on  the  hot  stones,  and  the  war- 
riors with  their  knives  slice  bits  of  skin  and  tlesh  from  their 
bodies,  — their  arms  and  breasts  and  sometimes  from  the  tip 
of  the  tongue,  which  they  offer  to  the  Sun.  Then,  after 
the  ceremony  is  over,  all  dripi)ing  with  perspiration  from 
their  vapor  bath,  the  men  go  down  to  the  river  and  plunge  in. 

In  starting  out,  a  war  parly  often  marches  in  the  daytime, 
but  sometimes  they  travel  at  night  from  the  beginning. 
Often  they  may  make  an  all  night  march  across  a  wide 
prairie,  in  passing  over  which  they  might  be  seen  if  they 
travelled  in  the  day.  They  journey  on  foot,  always.  The 
older  men  carry  tlieir  arms,  while  the  l)oys  bear  the  mocca- 
sins, the  ropes,  and  llu;  food,  which  usually  consists  of  dried 
meat  or  pemmican.  They  carry  also  coats  and  blankets 
and  their  war  bonnets  and  otter  skin  medicine.  The  leader 
has  but  little  physical  labor  to  perform.  His  mind  is  occu- 
pied in  planning  the  movements  of  his  parly.  He  is  treated 
with  the  gicate>-t  respect.  The  others  mend  his  moccasins, 
and  give  him  the  best  of  the  food  which  they  carry. 

;\fter  they  gel  away  from  the  main  camp,  the  leader 
selects  the  strongest  of  the  young  men,  and  sends  him  ahead 
to  some  designated  butte,  saying,  "do  to  that  place,  and 
look  carefully  over  the  country,  and  if  ycni  see  nothing,  make 
signals  to  us  to  come  on."  This  scout  goes  on  ahead,  trav- 
elling in  the  ravines  and  coulees,  and  keeps  himself  well 
hidden.  Afler  he  has  reconnoitred  and  made  signs  that  he 
sees  nothing,  the  parly  proceeds  straight  toward  him. 

The  party  usually  starts  early  in  the  morning  and  travels 


25: 


THK    STORV    OI"    THK    THKliF.    TKinF.S 


all  (lay,  making  camp  at  sundown.  During  the  day,  if  they 
happen  to  come  upon  an  antelope  or  a  buffalo,  they  kill  it, 
if  possible,  and  take  some  of  the  meat  with  them.  They  try 
in  every  way  to  economize  their  penunican.  I'hey  always 
endeavor  to  make  camp  in  the  thick  timber,  where  they  can- 
not be  seen  ;  and  here,  when  it  is  necessary,  on  account  of 
l);id  weather  or  for  other  reasons,  they  build  a  war  lodge. 
Taking  four  young  cotton-woods  or  asi)ens,  on  which  the 
leaves  are  left,  and  lashing  them  together  like  lodge  poles, 
but  with  the  butts  up.  about  these  they  place  other  similar 
trees,  also  butts  up  and  untrimmed.  I'he  leaves  keej)  the 
rain  off,  and  jirevent  the  light  of  the  fire  which  is  built 
in  the  lodge  from  showing  through.  Sometimes,  when  on 
the  prairie,  where  there  is  uu  wood,  in  stormy  weather  they 
will  build  a  shelter  of  rocks.  When  the  party  has  come 
close  to  tiie  enemy,  or  into  a  country  wiiere  tlie  enetny  are 
likely  to  be  found,  they  build  no  more  fires,  but  eat  their 
footl  imcooked. 

When  they  see  fresh  tracks  of  people,  or  signs  that  enemies 
are  in  the  country,  they  stop  travelling  in  the  daytime  and 
move  altogether  by  night,  until  they  come  to  some  good 
place  for  hiding,  and  here  they  stoj)  and  sleep.  When  day 
comes,  the  leader  sends  out  young  men  to  tlie  different 
buttes,  to  l(jok  over  the  country  and  see  if  they  can  discover 
the  enemy.  If  some  one  of  the  s(  (juts  reports  that  he  has 
seen  a  camp,  and  that  the  enemy  have  been  foimd,  the 
leader  directs  his  men  to  paint  themselves  and  put  on  their 
war  bonnets.  This  last  is  a  figure  of  speech,  since  the  war 
'oonnets,  having  of  late  years  been  usually  ornamented  with 
brass  bells,  could  not  be  worn  in  a  secret  attack,  on  account 
of  the  noise  they  would  make.  P.efore  painting  them- 
selves, therefore,  they  untie  their  war  bonnets,  and  spread 
them  out  on  the  ground,  as  if  they  were  about  to  be  worn, 
and  then  when  they  have  finished  p.iinting  themselves,  tie 
them  up  again.     When  it  begins  to  get  dark,  they  start  on 


1 


THE    BLACKFOOT    IN    WAR  253 

the  run  for  the  enemy's  camp.  They  leave  their  food  in 
camp,  but  carry  their  ropes  skmg  over  the  shoulder  and 
under  the  arm,  whips  stuck  in  belts,  guns  and  blankets. 

After  they  have  crept  up  close  to  the  lodges,  the  leader 
chooses  certain  men  that  have  strong  hearts,  and  takes  them 
with  him  into  the  camp  to  cut  loose  the  horses.  The  rest 
of  the  party  remain  outside  the  camp,  and  look  about  its 
outskirts,  driving  in  any  horses  that  may  be  feeding  about, 
not  tied  up.  Of  those  who  have  gone  into  the  camp,  some 
cut  loose  one  horse,  while  others  cut  all  that  may  be  tied 
aboiit  a  lodge.  Some  go  only  once  into  tlie  camp,  and 
some  go  twice  to  get  the  horses.  When  they  have  secured 
the  horses,  they  drive  them  off  a  little  way  from  the  camp, 
at  first  going  slowly,  and  then  mount  and  ride  off  fast. 
Cienerally,  t'ley  travel  two  nights  and  one  day  before  sleeping. 

This  is  the  usual  method  of  procedure  of  an  ordinary 
expedition  to  capture  horses,  and  I  have  given  it  very  nearly 
in  the  language  of  the  men  who  explained  it  to  me. 

In  their  hostile  encounters,  the  Blackfeet  have  much  that 
is  common  to  many  I'lains  tribes,  and  also  some  customs 
that  are  peculiar  to  themselves.  Like  most  Indians,  they 
are  subject  to  sudden,  apj)arently  causeless,  panics,  while  at 
other  times  they  display  a  courage  that  is  heroic.  They  are 
firm  believers  in  luck,  and  will  follow  a  leader  who  is  fortu- 
nate in  his  expeditions  into  almost  any  danger.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  the  leader  of  a  war  party  loses  his  young  men, 
or  any  of  them,  the  people  in  the  camp  think  that  he  is 
unlucky,  and  does  not  know  how  to  lead  a  war  party. 
Young  men  will  not  follow  him  as  a  leader,  and  he  is  obliged 
to  go  as  a  servant  or  scout  under  another  leader.  He  is 
likely  never  again  to  lead  a  war  party,  having  learned  to 
distrust  his  luck. 

If  a  war  party  meets  the  enemy,  and  kills  several  of  them, 
losii\g  in  the  '  utle  one  of  its  owr  number,  it  is  likely,  as 
the  phrase  is,  to  "  cover "  the  slain  i'.lackfoot  with  all  the 


I   1 


i!'( 


M 


i! 


.  II 


^54 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    TIIREF.    TRIRES 


tlcatl  enemies  save  one,  and  to  liave  a  scalp  dance  over  that 
remaining  one.  If  a  party  had  killeil  six  of  the  enemy  and 
lost  a  man,  it  might  "cover"  tiie  slain  IJlackfoot  with  five 
of  the  enemy.  In  other  words,  tiie  live  dead  enemies  would 
pay  for  the  one  which  the  war  party  ha<l  lost.  So  far, 
matters  would  be  even,  and  they  wt)uld  feel  at  liberty  to 
rejoice  over  the  victory  gained  over  the  one  that  is  left. 

The  lilackfeet  sometimes  cut  to  pieces  an  enemy  killed 
in  battle.  If  a  lllackfoot  had  a  relation  killed  by  a  member 
of  another  tribe,  and  afterward  killed  one  of  this  tribe,  he 
was  likely  to  cut  him  all  to  pieces  '•  to  get  even,"  that  is, 
to  gratify  his  spite  —  to  obtain  revenge.  Sometimes,  after 
they  had  killeil  an  enemy,  they  dragged  his  boily  into  camp, 
so  as  to  give  the  (  hildrcn  an  opportunity  to  count  (('///>  on  it. 
Often  they  cut  the  feet  anil  hands  off  the  dead,  and  took 
them  away  and  danced  over  them  for  a  Ujug  time.  Some- 
times they  cut  off  an  arm  or  a  leg,  and  often  the  head,  and 
danced  and  rejoiced  over  this  trojjhy. 

Women  and  children  (jf  hostile  tribes  were  often  cai)tured. 
and  adopted  into  the  lilackfool  tribes  with  all  the  rights  and 
privileges  (if  iniligenous  members.  Men  w -re  rarely  cap- 
tured. When  thev  were  taken,  thev  were  sometimes  killed 
in  cold  blood,  especially  if  they  had  made  a  desperate 
resistance  before  being  (  apiured.  .\t  other  times,  the  cap- 
tive would  be  kept  fur  a  time,  and  then  the  chief  would  take 
him  off  away  from  the  camp,  an;'  give  him  provisions, 
clothing,  arms,  ami  a  hor^',  and  lei  him  go.  The  captive 
man  always  had  a  hard  time  at  first.  When  he  was 
brought  into  the  cami».  *'^^'  women  and  ( iiildren  tiirew  dirt 
on  him  and  counted  (('///.con  him,  pc-unding  Inm  with  sticks 
and  clubs.  He  was  nnely  tied,  but  was  always  watched. 
Often  the  man  who  had  taken  him  prisoner  had  great 
trouble  to  keej)  his  tribesmen  from  killing  him. 

In  the  very  early  days  of  this  century,  war  parties  used 
commonly  to  start  out  in  the  spring,  going  south  lo  the  land 


I  .U 


THE    ni.ACKFOOT    IN    WAR 


255 


^ 


where  horses  were  abundant,  being  absent  all  sunnner  and 
the  next  winter,  and   returning   the  folUwing  summer  or 
autumn,  with  great  bands  of  horses.     Sometimes  they  were 
gone  two  years.     They  say  that  on  such  journeys  they  used 
to  go  to  Spill'} II  X'j(/// '/■//,  which  means  the  Spanish  lands  — 
Spai'yit  being  a  recently  made  word,  no  tloubt  from  the 
[•'rench  cspiii^iio/.     That  they  did  get  as  far  as  Mexico,  or 
at   least   New  Mexico,   is  indicated  by  the  fact   that  they 
brouiiht  back  branded  horses  and  a  few  branded  mules ;   for 
in  these  early  days  there  was  no  stock  upon  the  Plains,  and 
animals    bearing    brands   were   found    only  in  the    Spanish 
American  settlements.     The   r.lackfeet  did  not   know  what 
these   marks   meant.     From   their  raids   into  these   distant 
lands,  they  sometimes  brought  back  arms  of  strange  make, 
lances,  axes,  and  swords,  of  a  form  unlike  any  that  they  had 
seen.      The  lances  had  broad  heads ;  some  of  the  axes,  as 
described,  were  evitlently  the  old  "  T.  Clray  "  trade  axes  of 
the  si)Ulhwest.     .\  sword,  described  as  having  a  long,  slender, 
strai.nht  blade,  inlaid  witli  a  tlower  pattern  of  yellow  metal 
along  the  back,  was  i)robably  an  old  Spanish  rapier. 

In  telling  of  these  journeys  to  Spanish  lands,  they  say 
of  the  very  long  reeds  which  grow  there,  that  they  are  very 
large  at  tiie  butt,  are  jointed,  very  hard,  and  very  tall ;  they 
grow  in  marshy  places  ;  and  the  water  there  has  a  strange, 
mouldy  smell. 

It  is  said,  too,  that  there  have  been  war  parties  who  have 
crossed  the  mountains  and  gone  so  for  to  the  west  that  they 
have  seen  the  big  salt  water  which  lies  beyond,  or  west  of, 
the  (Ireat  Salt  Lake.  Journeys  as  for  south  as  Salt  Lake 
were  not  uncommon,  and  Hugh  Monroe  has  told  me  of  a 
war  party  he  a(  <  ompanieil  which  went  as  far  as  this. 


f  t 


I; 


RELIGION 


In  ancient  times  the  chief  god  of  the  Blackfeet  —  their 
C'reator — was  Na'pi  (Old  Man).  This  is  the  word  used  to 
incTTcate  any  old  man,  though  its  meaning  is  often  loosely 
given  as  white.  An  analysis  of  the  word  AW/>i,  however, 
shows  it  to  be  comiiounded  of  the  word  Ni'iuifi,  man,  and 
the  particle  </'//,  wiiich  expresses  a  color,  and  which  is  never 
used  by  itself,  but  always  in  combination  with  some  other 
word.  The  Hhu^kfoot  wortl  for  white  is  Ksik-si-iiinii',  while 
a'pi,  though  also  conveying  the  idea  of  whiteness,  really  de- 
scribes the  tint  seen  in  the  early  morning  light  when  it  first 
appears  in  the  east  —  the  dawn  —  not  a  pure  white,  but 
that  color  combined  with  a  faint  cast  of  yellow.  ■^'<f'/'', 
therefore,  would  seem  to  mean  dawn-light-color-man,  or 
man-yellowish-white.  It  is  easy  to  see  why  old  men  should 
be  called  by  this  latter  name,  for  it  describes  precisely  the 
color  of  their  hair. 

Dr.  Brinton,  in  his  valuable  work.  American  Hero  Myths, 
has  suggested  a  more  profound  reason  why  such  a  name 
should  be  given  to  the  Creator.  He  says:  "The  most  im- 
portant of  all  things  to  life  is  light.  This  the  primitive 
savage  felt,  and  personifying  it,  he  made  light  his  chief  god. 
The  beginning  of  day  served,  by  analogy,  for  the  beginning 
of  the  world.  Light  comes  before  the  Sun,  brings  it  forth, 
creates  it,  as  it  were.  Hence  the  Light  god  is  not  the  Sun 
god  but  his  antecedent  and  Creator." 

It  would  be  absurd  to  attribute  to  the  IJlackfoot  of  to-day 
any  such  abstract  conception  of  the  name  of  the  Creator  as 
256 


RELIGION 


257 


that  expressed  in  the  foregoing  <niotatit)n.  The  statement 
that  Old  Man  was  merely  light  personified  would  l)e  beyond 
his  comprehension,  and  if  he  ilid  understand  what  was 
meant,  he  would  laugh  at  it,  and  aver  that  Att'/^i  was  a  real 
man,  a  flesh  and  blood  person  like  himself. 

The  character  of  (Jld  Man,  as  dei)icted  in  the  stories  told 
of  him  by  the  IJlackfeet,  is  a  curious  mixture  of  opposite  at- 
tributes. In  the  serious  tales,  such  as  those  of  the  creation, 
he  is  spoken  of  respei  tfully,  and  there  is  n(j  hint  of  the 
impish  (pKilities  wiiich  characterize  him  in  other  stories,  in 
which  he  is  powerful,  but  also  at  times  iiupoteiU  :  full  of  all 
wisdom,  yet  at  times  so  helpless  that  he  has  to  ask  aid  from 
the  animals.  Sometimes  he  sympathizes  with  the  people, 
and  at  others,  out  of  pure  spitefulness,  he  i)lays  them 
malicious  tricks  that  are  worthy  of  a  demon.  He  is  a  com- 
bination of  strength,  weakness,  wisdom,  folly,  childishness, 
ami  malice. 

Under  various  names  (^Id  Man  is  known  to  the  Trees, 
("hippeways,  and  other  .Algontpiins,  and  many  (jf  the  stories 
that  are  current  among  the  I'lackfeet  are  told  of  him  among 
those  tribes.  The  more  southern  of  these  tribes  do  not 
venerate  him  as  of  old,  but  the  Plains  and  'I'imber  Crees 
of  the  north,  and  the  north  ('hi|)peways.  are  said  still  to  be 
firm  believers  in  Old  Man.  He  was  thi'ir  Creator,  and  is 
still  their  chief  god.  He  is  believed  in  less  by  the  younger 
generation  than  the  older.  The  Crees  are  regarded  by  the 
Indians  of  the  Northwest  as  having  very  jxjwerful  medicine, 
and  this  all  comes  from  Old  Man. 

Old  Man  can  never  die.  Long  ago  he  left  the  HIackfeet 
and  went  away  to  the  West,  disappearing  in  the  moimtains. 
Before  his  departure  he  tokl  them  that  he  would  always  take 
care  of  them,  and  some  day  would  return.  I"'ven  now, 
many  of  the  old  people  believe  that  he  spoke  the  truth, 
and  that  some  day  he  will  come  back,  and  will  bring  with 
him  the   buffalo,   which   they   believe   the  white    men    have 


1  I 


25S 


Till,  .s^()u^    oi'    riiK.  three  tribes 


liithlcn.  It  is  somctinii's  said,  however,  that  when  lie  loft 
them  he  told  them  also  that,  when  he  lettiriied,  he  wouki 
ti:ul  them  changed — a  different  people  and  living  in  a  dif- 
ferent way  from  that  wliich  tiny  practised  when  he  went 
away.  Sometimes,  also,  it  is  said  that  when  he  disappeared 
he  went  to  the  I'.ast. 

It  is  generally  bclievid  tliat  Old  Man  is  no  longer  the 
l)rincipal  god  of  the  Klackfeet.  that  the  Sun  has  taken  his 
place.  There  is  some  reason  to  siispe(  t,  however,  that  the 
Sun  and  Old  Man  are  one,  thai  ,\'</A',»'  is  only  another 
name  for  X(i'/>i,  for  I  have  been  told  by  two  or  three  old 
men  that  "  the  Sun  is  the  ])er:^on  whou)  we  call  ( )ld  Man." 
However  this  may  be,  it  is  certain  that  A)/'/'/ — even  if  he 
no  longer  occupies  the  chief  i)lace  in  the  I'.lackfoot  religious 
system — is  still  reverenied.  and  is  still  addressed  in  ])rayer. 
Now,  however,  every  good  thing,  su*'cess  in  war,  in  the 
chase,  health,  long  life,  all  happiness,  come  by  the  specia' 
favor  of  the  Sun. 

The  Sun  is  a  man.  the  supreme  chii'f  of  tlu'  world.  i"he 
flat,  circular  earth  in  fad  is  his  home,  the  lloor  of  his  lodge, 
and  the  over-arching  sky  is  its  covering.  The  moon,  Ki>-L-i>- 
nii/;'-?-is,  night  light,  is  the  Sun's  wile.  The  pair  have  had  a 
number  of  children,  all  but  one  of  whom  were  killed  bv  pel- 
icans, 'i'he  survivor  is  the  morning  star,  .l-pi-si/'-ah/s  — 
early  riser. 

In  attributes  the  Sun  is  \-ery  unlike  Old  Man.  He  is  a 
beneficent  person,  of  great  wisdom  and  kindness,  good  to 
those  wlio  do  riglit.  As  a  special  means  of  obtaining  his 
favor,  sacrifices  must  lie  maik'.  These  are  often  ])resents  of 
clothing,  fine  robes,  or  furs,  and  in  extreme  cases,  when  the 
prayer  is  for  life  itself,  the  offering  of  a  linger,  or-  still 
dearer  —  a  lock  of  hair.  If  a  while  buff.do  was  kilU'd,  the 
robe  was  always  given  to  the  Sun.  It  belonged  to  him.  Of 
the  buff  ill  I,  the  tongue  —  regardi'il  as  the  greatest  delicacy 
of  the  whole   anim.il      was    especially   sacred    to  the  Sun. 


^ 


REI.ir.lON 


259 


I 


The  sulTerings  undergone  I)y  nu-n  in  tlu-  Medicine  I^odge 
each  year  were  sacrifices  to  the  Sun.  'I'his  torture  was  an 
actual  j)enance,  like  the  sitting  for  years  on  top  of  a  pillar, 
the  wearing  of  a  hair  shirt,  or  fasting  in  Lent.  It  was  under- 
gone for  no  other  purpose  than  that  of  pleasing  (iod  —  as  a 
pio])iliation  or  in  fulfilment  of  vows  made  to  him.  Just  as 
the  priests  of  IJaal  slashed  themselves  with  knives  to  induce 
their  god  to  help  them,  so,  and  for  the  same  reason,  the 
r.lackfoot  men  surged  on  anil  tore  out  the  ropes  tied  to  their 
skins.  It  is  merely  the  carrying  out  of  a  religious  idea  that 
is  as  old  as  history  and  as  widespread  as  the  globe,  and  is 
closely  akin  to  the  motive  which  to-day,  in  our  own  centres 
of  enlightened  civilization,  jjrompts  acts  of  self-denial  and 
penance  by  many  thousands  of  iiitelligent  cultivated  people. 
And  yet  we  are  horrified  at  hearing  described  the  tortures  of 
the  Medicine  Lodge. 

llesides  the  Sun  and  ( )ld  Man,  the  lilackfoot  religious  sys- 
tem includes  a  nunibi-r  of  minor  fleities  or  rather  natural 
(jualities  and  forces,  which  are  ])ersonified  and  given  shape. 
These  are  included  in  tlie  general  terms  .Above  Persons, 
(Iround  Persons,  and  I'nder  Water  Persons.  Of  the  former 
class,  'I'hunder  is  one  of  the  most  important,  and  is  wor- 
shipped as  is  elsewhere  shown.  He  brings  the  rain.  He  is 
represented  sometimes  as  a  bird,  or,  more  vaguely,  as  in  one 
of  the  stories,  merely  as  a  fearful  person.  \\"\m\  Maker  is 
an  example  of  an  I'li'ler  Water  Person,  and  it  is  related  that 
In-  has  been  seen,  and  his  form  is  descnbiMl.  It  is  believed 
by  some  that  he  lives  under  the  water  at  the  head  of  the 
I'pper  St.  Mary's  Lake.  Those  who  believe  this  say  that 
when  he  wants  the  wind  to  blow,  he  makes  the  waves  roll, 
and  that  these  cause  the  wind  to  blow.  —  another  example  of 
mistaking  effect  for  cause,  so  common  among  the  Indians. 
The  Ground  Man  is  another  below  jjerson.  He  lives  under 
the  ground,  and  perhaps  typifies  the  power  of  the  earth, 
which  is  highly  respected  by  all  Indians  of  the  west.     The 


I 


n 


260 


TIIK    STOKV    OF    THK     TIIKI.K     IKIIII-.S 


(hcyeniK's  als(j  havt-  a  CiroiiiKl  >raii  whom  tlioy  call  'The 
Lower  One,  or  Melow  Person  (P////'-o-/si-/i\(>).  Ihe  cold  and 
snow  are  l)rnii<;ht  by  CoM  Maki-r  {.li'so-yim-sfdii).  He  is 
a  man,  white  in  color,  with  white  hair,  and  dad  in  white 
apparel,  who  rides  on  a  white  horse,  lie  I)rinL;s  the  storm 
with  him.  They  pray  to  him  to  bring,  or  not  to  bring,  the 
storm. 

Many  of  the  animals  are  regarded  as  typifying  some  form 
of  wisdom  or  <  raft.  They  are  not  gods,  yet  they  have  power, 
which,  ])erhap>,  is  given  them  by  the  Sun  or  by  Old  Man. 
Examples  of  this  are  shown  in  some  of  the  stories. 

.\mong  the  animals  especially  respected  and  sup|»osed 
to  have  great  ])ower,  are  the  buffalo,  tiie  bear,  the  raven, 
tlie  wolf,  the  beaver,  and  llir  kit-fox.  (leese  too,  are 
credited  with  great  wisdom  and  with  foreknowledge  of  the 
weather.  They  are  li'd  by  chiefs.  As  is  (|uite  natural  among 
a  people  like  the  lUackfeet,  the  buffalo  stood  very  high 
among  the  animals  whic  h  they  reverent  cd.  It  symboli/cd 
food  and  shelter,  and  w.is  .\'(if(>'\r  (of  the  Sun),  sacri'd.  Not 
a  few  considered  it  a  mcdi(  ine  animal,  ami  had  it  for  th<'ir 
dream,  or  secret  helper.  It  was  the  most  powerful  of  all  the 
animal  helpers.  Its  importance  is  indi(  ated  by  the  fact  that 
buff.ilo  skulls  were  placed  on  the  sweat  houses  built  in  con- 
nection with  the  .Medicine  Lodge.  .\  simil.ir  respect  for 
the  buffalo  exists  annxig  ui.my  I'lains  tribes,  which  were  for- 
merly dependent  on  it  for  tood  and  raiment.  .\  reverence 
for  the  bear  appears  to  be  common  to  all  North  .American 
tril)es,  and  is  based  not  upon  anything  tiiat  the  animal's  body 
yields,  but  i)erhaps  on  the  f k  t  that  it  is  the  largi-st  carnivo- 
rous mammal  of  the  continent,  the  most  ditfi(  ull  to  kill  ami 
extremely  keen  in  all  its  senses.  The  I'dackfeet  believe  it  to 
be  part  brute  and  part  human,  ])oitic»ns  of  its  body,  particu- 
larly the  ribs  and  feet,  being  like  those  of  a  man.  The  raven 
is  cunning.  The  wolf  has  great  endurance  and  much  craft, 
lie  can  steal  close  to  one  without  being  seen.      In  the  stories 


jm 


KKLir.ION 


261 


given  in  the  earlier  imgcs  of  this  hook,  many  of  the  attributes 
of  the  different  animals  are  dearly  set  forth. 

Tiiere  were  various  powers  and  si{,'ns  connerted  with  these 
animals  so  lield  in  hi^h  esteem  hy  tlie  I>la(  kfeet,  to  whicli 
the  people  gave  strict  heed.  Thus  the  raven  has  the  power 
of  giving  people  far  sight.  It  was  also  useful  in  another  way. 
Often,  in  going  to  war,  a  ui.in  would  get  a  raven's  skin  and 
stuff  the  head  and  neck,  and  tic  it  to  the  hair  of  the  head 
l)ehin<l.  If  a  man  wearing  su<  h  a  skin  got  near  the  enemv 
witliout  knowing  it,  the  skin  woul<l  give  iiim  warning  by  tap- 
ping him  on  the  back  of  the  head  with  its  bill.  Then  he 
would  know  that  ihe  tiiemv  was  near,  and  would  hide.  If  a 
raven  llcw  o\-cr  a  Iodide,  or  a  number  of  lodges,  and  cried, 
and  then  w.is  joined  by  other  ravens,  all  living  over  the  camp 
and  (Tying,  it  was  ;i  sure  sign  that  during  the  day  some  one 
would  come  and  tell  the  news  from  fir  off.  ihe  ravens 
often  told  tin-  people  that  gami-  was  near,  calling  to  the 
hunter  and  then  tl\ing  a  little  way,  autl  then  coming  back, 
and  again  calling  and  Hying  toward  the  game. 

The  wolves  are  the  people's  great  friends;  they  travel 
with  the  wolves.  If,  as  they  are  travelling  along,  they  pass 
close  to  some  wolves,  tlu-se  will  bark  at  the  |)eople,  talking 
to  them.  Some  man  will  (  all  {>  them.  "  No,  I  will  not  give 
you  m\-  body  to  e.it,  but  I  will  give  you  tlu-  bodv  of  some  one 
else,  if  you  will  go  along  with  us."  I  his  .i|)plies  both  to  wolves 
and  coyotes.  If  a  man  goes  away  from  the  camp  at  night. 
and  meets  a  coyoti-,  and  it  b.uks  at  him,  he  goes  back  to  the 
camp,  and  says  to  the  people;  "  I  00k  otit  now;  be  smart. 
A  coyote  barked  at  me  to-night."  Then  the  people  look  out, 
and  are  can-ful,  for  it  is  a  sure  sign  th.it  something  bad  is 
going  to  happtii.  I'erhaps  some  one  will  In-  shot  ;  perhai)S 
the  enemy  will  charge  the  camj). 

If  .1  person  is  hungry  and  sings  a  wolf  song,  he  is  likely  to 
find  food.  Men  going  on  a  hunting  tri])  sing  these  s<;ngs, 
which  bring  them  good  luck. 


262 


TllK    bTOKY    OF    TlIK    i  IIKKK    IKIHES 


The  bear  has  very  powerful  medicine.  Sometimes  he 
takes  i)ity  on  people  and  helps  then),  as  in  the  story  of 
Mik'-api. 

Some  I'iegans,  if  they  wish  U)  travel  on  a  <  ertain  day,  have 
the  power  of  insuring  good  weather  on  that  day.  It  is  sup- 
posed that  they  do  this  by  singing  a  powerful  song.  Some 
of  the  enemy  can  cause  bail  weather,  when  they  want  to  steal 
into  the  camp. 

IVople  who  helongetl  to  the  .S'///'-('-/"'/' band  of  the  /-/v///- 
uli'-kak-isi,  if  liiey  were  at  war  in  sunnner  and  w.mli-d  a  storm 
to  come  up,  would  take  some  dirt  and  water  and  rub  it  on 
the  kit-fox  skm,  and  this  would  lause  a  rain-stt)rm  to  ( ome 
up.  In  winter,  snow  and  dirt  wt)uld  be  rubbeil  on  the  skin 
and  this  would  bring  up  a  snow-stt)rm. 

Certain  plac  I's  and  inanimate  objects  are  also  greatly 
reverenced  by  the  lilackfeet,  and  presents  are  made  to  them. 

The  smallest  of  the  three  buttes  of  the  Sweet  Orass  Hills 
is  regarded  as  sacred.  "All  the  Indians  are  afraid  to  go 
there,"  P'our  Mears  oik  e  told  nu'.  I'nsi'nts  arc  sonu-times 
thrown  into  the  .Missouri  River,  though  these  arc  not  offer- 
ings made  direi  tly  to  the  stream,  but  are  given  to  tlie  I'nder 
Water  People,  who  live  in  it. 

Mention  has  already  been  made  of  the  l)uffalo  rock,  which 
gives  its  owner  the  power  to  call  the  buff.ilo. 

Another  sacred  object  is  the  inediciuc  ro(  k  of  the  Marias. 
It  is  a  huge  bcjulder  of  reddish  sandstone,  two-lhinls  the 
way  up  a  steej)  hill  on  the  north  bank  of  tlu-  .Marias  River, 
about  five  miles  from  I'ort  Conrad,  l-'ormerly,  this  ro(  k 
rested  on  the  toj)  of  the  bluff,  but,  as  the  soil  about  it  is 
worn  aw.iy  by  tlie  wind  and  tlie  rain,  it  is  slowly  moving 
down  tiir  hill.  'Ihe  Indiana  believe  it  to  be  alive,  and  make 
presents  to  it.  W  hen  1  lirst  visited  it,  the  ground  about  it 
was  strewn  with  decaying  remnants  of  offerings  that  had 
been  niade  to  it  in  the  past,  .\inong  these  1  noli(  ed, 
besides  fragments  of  tlulhing,  eagle  feathers,  a  steel  finger 


RKI.IC.ION 


263 


ring,  brass  ear-rings,  ami  a  little  bottle  inaile  of  two  copper 
cartridge  cases. 

Down  on  Milk  Kiver,  east  of  the  Sweet  drass  Hills,  is 
another  medicine  rock.  It  is  shaped  something  like  a 
m.m's  body,  and  looks  like  a  pcr-,on  silling  on  top  of  the 
bliilV.  Whciuvir  the  lUaikfed  pass  this  rock,  they  make 
presents  to  it.  Sometimes,  when  they  give  it  an  article  of 
clothing,  they  put  it  on  the  rock,  '"and  then,"  as  one  of 
them  once  said  to  me,  •'  when  you  look  at  it,  it  seems  more 
than  ever  like  a  person."  Down  in  the  big  bend  of  the 
.Milk  Kiver,  opi)o.>ile  the  eastern  end  of  the  Little  Rocky 
Mountains,  lying  on  the  prairie,  is  a  great  gray  boulder, 
which  is  shaped  like  a  bulialo  bull  lying  down.  This  is 
greatly  reverenced  by  all  Plains  Indians,  lilackfeet  included, 
and  they  make  presents  to  it.  .Many  other  examples  of 
similar  chiir.icler  might  be  given. 

The  111  i(  klei  I  make  daily  prayers  to  the  Sun  and  to  Old 
Man,  and  nothing  of  importance  is  undertaken  without 
asking  for  di\ine  assi.-ilance.  They  are  fnin  believers  in 
dreams.  These,  thi-y  say,  are  sent  by  the  Sun  to  enable  us 
to  look  ahead,  to  tell  wlul  is  going  to  happi'U.  A  dream, 
especially  if  it  i^  a  •.tr.mg  one,  -  lii.U  is,  if  tlu-  dream  is  very 
clear  and  vivid.-  is  almost  always  obcyecl.  As  dreams 
start  them  on  the  war  pitli,  so,  if  a  dream  threatening  bad 
lu(  k  comes  l">  a  member  of  a  war  i)arty,  even  if  in  the 
enemy's  (onntrv  and  just  about  lo  m.ikc  an  attack  on  a 
camp,  the  i)arly  is  likely  U)  turn  about  and  go  home  without 
making  any  hi).->tile  demonstrations.  The  animal  or  obje(  t 
wliirh  appears  to  the  boy,  or  man,  who  is  trying  to  dream 
for  ])ower,  is,  as  has  bi'iii  said,  rc-ardcd  lIuTo.ifter  as  his 
secri't  helper,  hi-,  uunlit  inc.  ,ind  i-.  usually  calleil  his  dream 
{A','/s-(''-/.-(i//). 

The  most  im|iorl,mt  religious  occasion  of  the  year  is  the 
ceremony  of  the  Medicine  l.oilge.  This  is  a  sacrifice,  which, 
amone  the  lll.u  kfet,  is  oiil-re  1   inv.iria!)lv  by  women.      If  a 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  U580 

(716)  873-4503 


I 


Ctf 


5^   4^ 


264 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


ii 


" 


I     1| 


ik 


woman  has  a  son  or  husband  away  at  war,  and  is  anxious 
about  him,  or  if  she  has  a  dangerously  sick  child,  she  may 
make  to  the  Sun  a  vow  in  the  following  words  :  — 

"  Listen,  Sun.  Pity  me.  You  have  seen  my  life.  You 
know  that  I  am  pure.  I  have  never  committed  adultery 
with  any  man.  Now,  therefore,  I  ask  you  to  pity  me.  I 
will  build  you  a  lodge.  Let  my  son  survive.  Bring  him 
back  to  health,  so  that  I  may  build  this  lodge  for  you." 

The  vow  to  build  the  Medicine  Lodge  is  repeated  in  a 
loud  voice,  outside  her  lodge,  so  that  all  the  people  may  hear 
it,  and  if  any  man  can  impeach  the  woman,  he  is  obliged  to 
speak  out,  in  which  case  she  could  be  punished  according  to 
the  law.  The  Medicine  Lodge  is  always  built  in  summer, 
at  the  season  of  the  ripening  of  the  sarvis  berries,  and  if, 
before  this  time,  the  person  for  whom  the  vow  is  made  dies, 
the  woman  is  not  obliged  to  fulfil  her  vow.  She  is  regarded 
with  suspicion,  and  it  is  generally  believed  that  she  has  been 
guilty  of  the  crime  she  disavowed.  As  this  cannot  be 
proved,  however,  she  is  not  punished. 

When  the  time  approaches  for  the  building  of  the  lodge, 
a  suitable  locality  is  selected,  and  all  the  people  move  to  it, 
putting  up  their  lodges  in  a  circle  about  it.  In  the  mean- 
time, at  least  a  hundred  buffalo  tongues  have  been  collected, 
cut,  and  dried  by  the  woman  who  may  be  called  the 
Medicine  Lodge  woman.  No  one  but  she  i'  allowed  to 
take  part  in  this  work. 

Before  the  tongues  are  cut  and  dried,  they  are  laid  in  a 
pile  in  the  medicine  woman's  lodge.  She  then  gives  a  feast 
to  the  old  men,  and  one  of  them,  noted  for  his  honesty,  and 
well  liked  by  all,  repeats  a  very  long  prayer,  asking  in 
substance  that  the  coming  Medicine  Lodge  may  be  acceptable 
to  the  Sun,  and  that  he  will  look  with  favor  on  the  people, 
and  will  give  them  good  health,  plenty  of  food,  and  success 
in  war.  A  hundred  songs  are  then  sung,  each  one  different 
from  the  othi,M-s.  The  feast  and  singing  of  these  songs  lasts 
a  day  and  a  half. 


i- 


-T'lifp  -  i^tTfrj^. 


RELIGION 


265 


Before  the  Medicine  Lodge  is  erected,  four  large   sweat 
lodges  are  built,  all  in  a  line,  fronting  to  the  east  or  toward  the 
N  rising  sun.      Two  stand  in  front 

p   p    /^'~\    tec      °^  ^^^'^  Medicine  Lodge,  and  two 
V   V    \^   k    "     "        behind  it.     The  two  nearest  the 
MRuiciNi!  Lodge.  Medicine    Lodge    are   built    one 

day,  and  the  others  on  the  day  following.  The  sticks  for  the 
framework  of  these  lodges  are  cut  only  1  y  renowned  warriors, 
each  warrior  cutting  one,  and,  as  he  brings  it  in  and  lays  it 
down,  he  counts  a  i-o///>,  which  must  be  of  some  especially 
brave  deed.  The  old  men  then  take  the  sticks  and  erect 
the  lodges,  \)lacing  on  top  of  each  a  buffalo  skull,  one  half 
of  whicli  is  painted  red,  the  other  black,  to  represent  day 
and  night,  or  rather  the  sun  and  the  moon.  When  the 
lodges  are  finished  and  the  stones  heated,  the  warriors  go 
in  to  sweat,  and  with  them  the  medicine  pipe  men,  who 
offer  up  prayers. 

While  this  is  going  on,  the  young  men  cut  the  centre  post 
for  the  Medicine  Lodge,  and  all  the  other  material  for  its 
construction.  The  women  then  pack  out  the  post  and  the 
poles  on  horses,  followed  by  the  men  shouting,  singing,  and 
shooting. 

In  the  morning  of  this  day  the  medicine  woman  begins  a 
fast,  which  must  last  four  days  and  four  nights,  with  only  one 
intermission,  as  will  shortly  appear.  During  that  time  she 
may  not  go  out  of  doors,  except  between  sunset  and  sunrise. 
During  the  whole  ceremony  her  face,  hands,  and  clothing 
are  covered  with  the  sacred  red  paint. 

When  all  the  material  has  been  brought  to  the  spot  where 
the  lodge  is  to  be  erected,  that  warrior  who,  during  the 
previous  year,  has  done  the  most  cutting  and  stabbing  in 
battle  is  selected  to  cut  the  rawhide  to  bind  it,  and  while 
he  cuts  the  strings  he  counts  three  i-o///>s. 

The  centre  ]iost  is  now  placed  on  the  ground,  surrounded 
by  the  poles  and  other  smaller  posts  ;  and  two  bunds  of  the 


266 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


!! 


I  i 

5 


I-kun-uh^-kah-tsi,  the  Braves,  and  the  All  Crazy  Dogs  ap- 
proach. Each  band  sings  four  songs,  and  then  they  raise  the 
lodge  amid  the  shouting  of  the  people.  It  is  said  that,  in  old 
times,  all  the  bands  of  the  I-kim-iih'-kah-tsi  took  part  in  this 
ceremony.  For  raising  the  centre  post,  which  is  very  heavy, 
lodge  poles  are  tied  in  pairs,  with  rawhide,  so  as  to  form 
"shears,"  each  pair  being  handled  by  two  men.  If  one  of 
the  ropes  binding  the  shears  breaks,  the  men  who  hold  the 
pair  are  said  to  be  unlucky ;  it  is  thought  that  they  are  soon 
to  die.  As  soon  as  the  centre  post  is  up,  the  wall  posts 
are  erected,  and  the  roof  of  poles  put  on,  the  whole 
structure  being  covered  with  brush.  The  door-way  flices 
erst  or  southeast,  and  the  lodge  is  circular  in  shape,  about 
forty  feet  in  diameter,  with  walls  about  seven  feet  high. 

Inside  the  Medicine  Lodge,  at  the  back,  or  west  side,  in 
the  principal  place  in  the  lodge,  is  now  built  a  little  box- 
shaped  house,  about  seven  feet  high,  six  feet  long,  and  four 
wide.  It  is  made  of  brush,  so  tightly  woven  that  one 
cannot  see  inside  of  it.  This  is  built  by  a  medicine  man, 
the  high  priest  of  this  ceremony,  who,  for  four  days,  the 
duration  of  the  ceremony,  neither  eats  nor  goes  out  of  it  in 
the  daytime.  The  people  come  to  him,  two  at  a  time,  and 
he  paints  them  with  black,  and  makes  for  them  an  earnest 
prayer  to  the  Sun,  that  they  may  have  good  health,  long 
lives,  and  good  food  and  shelter.  This  man  is  supposed  to 
have  power  over  the  rain.  As  rain  would  interfere  with  the 
ceremonies,  he  must  stop  it,  if  it  threatens. 

In  the  meantime,  the  sacred  dried  tongues  have  been 
placed  in  the  Medicine  Lodge.  The  next  morning,  the 
Medicine  Lodge  woman  leaves  her  own  lodge,  and,  walking 
very  slowly  with  bowed  head,  and  praying  at  every  step,  she 
enters  the  Medicine  Lodge,  and,  standing  by  the  pile  of 
tongues,  she  cuts  up  one  of  them  and  holds  it  toward  heaven, 
offering  it  to  the  Sun  ;  then  she  eats  a  part  of  it  and  buries 
the  rest  in  the  dirt,  praying  to  the  Ground  Man,  and  calling 


I       HI 

1| 


RELIGION 


267 


him  to  bear  witness  that  she  has  not  defiled  his  body  by 
committing  adultery.  She  then  proceeds  to  cut  up  the 
tongues,  giving  a  very  small  piece  to  every  person,  man, 
woman,  or  child.  Each  one  first  holds  it  up  to  the  Sun, 
and  then  prays  to  the  Sun,  Na'-pi,  and  the  Ground  Man  for 
long  life,  concluding  by  depositing  a  part  of  the  morsel  of 
tongue  on  the  ground,  saying,  "I  give  you  this  sacred 
tongue  to  eat."  And  now,  during  the  four  days,  outside  the 
lodge,  goes  on  the  counting  of  the  coups.  Each  warrior  in 
turn  recounts  his  success  in  war,  —  his  battles  or  his  horse- 
takings.  With  a  number  of  friends  to  help  him,  he  goes 
through  a  pantomime  of  all  these  encounters,  showing  how 
he  killed  this  enemy,  took  a  gun  from  that  one,  or  cut 
horses  loose  from  the  lodge  of  another.  When  he  has 
concluded,  an  old  man  offers  a  prayer,  and  ends  by  giving 
him  a  new  name,  saying  that  he  hopes  he  will  live  well  and 
long  under  it. 

Inside  the  lodge,  rawhide  ropes  are  suspended  from  the 
centre  post,  and  here  tlie  men  fulfil  the  vows  that  they 
have  made  during  the  previous  year.  Some  have  been  sick, 
or  in  great  danger  at  war,  and  they  then  vowed  that  if  they 
were  permitted  to  live,  or  escape,  they  would  swing  at  the 
Medicine  Lodge.  Slits  are  cut  in  the  skin  of  their  breast, 
ropes  passed  througli  and  secured  by  wooden  skewers,  and 
then  the  men  swing  and  surge  until  the  skin  gives  way  and 
tears  out.  This  is  very  painful,  and  some  fairly  shriek  with 
agony  as  they  do  it,  but  they  never  give  up,  for  they 
believe  that  if  they  should  fail  to  fulfil  their  vow,  they  would 
soon  die. 

On  the  fourth  day  every  one  has  been  prayed  for,  every 
one  has  made  to  the  Sun  his  or  her  present,  which  is  tied  to 
the  centre  post,  the  sacred  tongues  have  all  been  consumed, 
and  the  ceremony  ends,  every  one  feeling  better,  assured  of 
long  life  and  plenty. 

Most   persons   have  an  entirely  erroneous   idea   of  the 


^1? 


268 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


purpose  of  this  annual  ceremony.  It  has  been  supposed 
that  it  was  for  the  purpose  of  making  warriors.  This  is  not 
true.  It  was  essentially  a  religious  festival,  undertaken  for 
the  bodily  and  spiritual  welfare  of  the  people  according  to 
their  beliefs.  Incidentally,  it  furnished  an  opportunity  for 
the  rehearsal  of  daring  deeds.  But  among  no  tribes  who 
practised  it  were  warriors  made  by  it.  The  swinging  by  the 
breast  and  other  self-torturings  were  but  the  fulfilment  of 
vows,  sacred  promises  made  in  time  of  danger,  penances  per- 
formed, and  not,  as  many  believe,  an  occasion  for  young  men 
to  test  their  courage. 

From  the  Indians  of  the  tribe,  the  Medicine  Lodge  woman 
receives  a  very  high  measure  of  respect  and  consideration. 
Blackfoot  men  have  said  to  me,  "  We  look  on  the  Medicine 
j  Lodge  woman  as  you  white  people  do  on  the  Roman  Catholic 

\  sisters."     Not  only  is  she  virtuous  in  deed,  but  she  must  be 

^->*    serious  and  clean-minded.     Her  conversation  must  be  sober. 

Before  the  coming  of  the  whites,  the  Blackfeet  used  to 
smoke  the  leaves  of  a  plant  which  they  call  na-iuuh'-to-ski, 
and  which  is  said  to  have  been  received  long,  long  ago  from 
a  medicine  beaver.  It  was  used  unmixed  with  any  other 
plant.  The  story  of  how  this  came  to  the  tribe  is  told  else- 
where.' This  tobacco  is  no  longer  planted  by  the  Piegans, 
nor  by  the  Bloods,  though  it  is  said  that  an  old  Blackfoot 
each  year  still  goes  through  the  ceremony,  and  raises  a  little. 
Tiie  plant  grows  about  ten  inches  high  and  has  a  long  seed 
stalk  growing  from  the  centre.  White  Calf,  the  chief  of  the 
Piegans,  has  the  secrets  of  the  tobacco  and  is  perhaps  the 
only  person  in  the  tribe  who  knows  them.  From  him  I  have 
received  the  following  account  of  the  ceremonies  connected 
with  it :  — 

Early  in  the  spring,  after  the  last  snow-storm,  when  the 
flowers  begin  to  bud  (early  in  the  month  of  May),  the 
women  and  children  go  into  the  timber  and  prepare  a  large 

1  The  BcMver  Medicine,  p.  117. 


I 


■H^tfM 


RELIGION 


269 


bed,  clearing  away  the  underbrush,  weeds  and  grass  and 
leaves  and  sticks,  raking  the  ground  till  the  earth  is  thor- 
oughly pulverized.  Elk,  deer,  and  mountain  sheep  drop- 
pings are  collected,  pounded  fine,  and  mixed  with  the  seed 
which  is  to  be  sown. 

On  the  appointed  day  all  the  men  gather  at  the  bed. 
Each  one  holds  in  his  hand  a  short,  sharp-pointed  stick,  with 
which  to  make  a  hole  in  the  ground.  The  men  stand  in  a 
row  extending  across  the  bed.  At  a  signal  they  make  the 
holes  in  the  ground,  and  drop  in  some  seed,  with  some  sacred 
sarvis  berries.  The  tobacco  song  is  sung  by  the  medicine 
men,  all  take  a  short  step  forward,  make  another  hole,  a  foot 
in  front  of  the  last,  and  then  drop  in  it  some  more  seed. 
Another  song  is  sung,  another  step  taken,  and  seed  is  again 
planted  ;  and  this  continues  until  the  line  of  men  has  moved 
all  the  way  across  the  bed,  and  the  planting  is  completed. 
The  tobacco  dance  follows  the  planting. 

After  the  seed  has  been  planted,  they  leave  it  and  go  off 
after  the  buffalo.  While  away  during  the  summer,  some 
important  man  —  one  of  the  medicine  men  who  had  taken 
part  in  the  planting  —  announces  to  the  people  his  purpose 
to  go  back  to  look  after  the  crop.  He  starts,  and  after  he 
has  reached  the  place,  he  builds  a  little  fire  in  the  bed,  and 
offers  a  prayer  for  the  crop,  asking  that  it  may  survive  and 
do  well.  Then  he  pulls  up  one  of  the  plants,  which  he  takes 
back  with  him  and  shows  to  the  people,  so  that  all  may  see 
how  the  crop  is  growing.  He  may  thus  visic  the  place  three 
or  four  times  in  the  course  of  the  summer. 

From  time  to  time,  while  they  are  absent  from  the  tobacco 
patch  in  summer,  moving  about  after  the  buffalo,  the  men 
gather  in  some  lodge  to  perform  a  special  ceremony  for  the 
protection  of  the  crop.  Each  man  holds  in  his  hand  a  little 
stick.  They  sing  and  pray  to  the  Sun  and  Old  Man,  asking 
that  the  grasshoppers  and  other  insects  may  not  eat  their 
plants.     At  the  end  of  each  song  they  strike  the  ground  with 


270 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


I-    t  « 


their  sticks,  as  if  killing  grasshoppers  and  worms.  It  has 
sometimes  happened  that  a  young  man  has  said  that  he  does 
not  believe  that  these  prayers  and  songs  protect  the  plants, 
that  the  Sun  does  not  send  messengers  to  destroy  the  worms. 
To  such  a  one  a  medicine  man  will  say,  "  Well,  you  can  go 
to  the  place  and  see  for  yourself."  The  young  man  gets  on 
his  horse  and  travels  to  the  place.  When  he  comes  to  the 
edge  of  the  patch  and  looks  out  on  it,  he  sees  many  small 
children  at  work  there,  killing  worms.  He  has  not  believed 
in  this  before,  but  now  he  goes  back  convinced.  Such  a 
young  man  does  not  live  very  long. 

At  length  the  season  comes  forgathering  the  crop,  and,  at 
a  time  appointed,  all  the  camps  begin  to  move  l)ack  toward 
the  tobacco  patch,  timing  their  marches  so  that  all  may  reach 
it  on  the  same  day.  When  they  get  there,  they  camp  near 
it,  but  no  one  visits  it  except  the  head  man  of  the  medicine 
men  who  took  charge  of  the  planting.  This  man  goes  to  the 
bed,  gathers  a  little  of  the  plant,  and  returns  to  the  camp. 

A  small  boy,  six  or  eight  years  old,  is  selected  to  carry 
this  plant  to  the  centre  of  the  circle.  The  man  who  gathered 
the  tobacco  ties  it  to  a  little  stick,  and,  unde'  the  tobacco,  to 
the  stick  he  ties  a  baby's  moccasin.  The  little  boy  carries 
this  stick  to  the  centre  of  the  camp,  and  stands  it  in  the 
ground  in  the  middle  of  the  circle,  the  old  man  accompany- 
ing him  and  showing  him  where  to  put  it.  It  is  left  there  all 
night.  The  next  day  there  is  a  great  feast,  and  the  kettles 
jf  food  are  all  brought  to  the  centre  of  the  camp.  The 
people  all  gather  there,  and  a  prayer  is  made.  Then  they 
sing  the  four  songs  which  belong  especially  to  this  festival. 
The  first  and  fourth  are  merely  airs  without  wortls ;  the 
second  has  words,  the  purport  of  which  is,  "  The  sun  goes 
with  us."  The  third  song  says,  "  Hear  your  children's  prayer." 
After  the  ceremony  is  over,  every  one  is  at  liberty  to  go  and 
gather  the  tobacco.  It  is  dried  and  put  in  sacks  for  use  dur- 
ing the  year.     The  seed  is  collected  for  the  next  planting. 


^^E 


riHMiii 


RELIGION 


271 


When  they  reach  the  patch,  if  the  crop  is  good,  every  one  is 
glad.  After  the  gathering,  they  all  move  away  again  after  the 
buffalo. 

Sometimes  a  man  who  was  lazy,  and  had  planted  no  to- 
bacco, would  go  secretly  to  the  patch,  and  pull  a  number  of 
plants  belonging  to  some  one  else,  and  hide  them  for  his  own 
use.  Now,  in  these  prayers  that  they  offer,  they  do  not  ask 
for  mercy  for  thieves.  A  man  who  had  thus  taken  what  did 
not  belong  to  him  would  have  a  lizard  appear  to  him  in  a 
dream,  and  then  he  would  fall  sick  and  die.  The  medicine 
men  would  know  of  all  this,  but  they  would  not  do  anything. 
They  would  just  let  him  die. 

This  tobacco  was  given  us  by  the  one  who  made  us. 


The  Blackfoot  cosmology  is  imperfect  and  vague,  and  I 
have  been  able  to  obtain  nothing  like  a  complete  account  of 
it,  for  I  ha\fe  found  no  one  who  appeared  to  know  the  story 
of  the  beginning  of  all  things. 

Some  of  the  Blackfeet  now  say  that  originally  there  was  a 
great  womb,  in  which  were  conceived  the  progenitors  of  all 
animals  now  on  earth.  Among  these  was  Old  Man.  As  the 
time  for  their  birth  drew  near,  the  animals  used  to  quarrel 
as  to  which  should  be  the  first  to  be  born,  and  one  day, 
in  a  fierce  struggle  about  this,  the  womb  burst,  and  Old  Man 
jumped  first  to  the  ground.  For  this  reason,  he  named  all 
the  animals  Nis-kum'-iks,  Young  Brothers  ;  and  they,  because 
he  was  the  first-born,  called  him  Old  Man. 

There  are  several  different  accounts  of  the  creation  of  the 
people  by  Old  Man.  One  is  that  he  married  a  female  dog, 
and  that  their  progeny  were  the  first  people.  Others,  and 
the  ones  most  often  told,  have  been  given  in  the  Old  Man 
stories  already  related. 

There  is  an  account  of  the  creation  which  is  essentially 
an  Algonquin  myth,  and  is  told  by  most  of  the  tribes  of  this 
stock  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  though  the 


■Ml 


172 


rilli    STOKV    OF    THE     IIIKF.K    TRII5KS 


ii' 


hero  is  variously  named.  Here  is  the  Blackfoot  version  of 
it :  — 

In  the  beginning,  all  the  land  was  covered  with  water, 
and  Old  Man  and  all  the  animals  were  floating  around  on  a 
large  raft.  One  day  Old  Man  told  the  beaver  to  dive  and 
try  to  bring  up  a  little  mud.  The  beaver  went  down,  and 
was  gone  a  long  time,  but  could  not  reach  the  bottom. 
Then  the  loon  tried,  and  the  otter,  but  the  water  was  too 
deep  for  them.  At  last  the  muskrat  dived,  and  he  was  gone 
so  long  that  they  thought  he  had  drowned,  but  he  finally 
came  up,  almost  dead,  and  when  they  pulled  him  on  to  the 
raft,  they  found,  in  one  of  his  paws,  a  little  mud.  With  this, 
Old  Man  formed  the  world,  and  afterwards  he  made  the 
people. 

This  myth,  while  often  related  by  the  Blackfoot  tribe, 
is  seldom  heard  among  tiie  Bloods  or  Piegans.  It  is 
uncertain  whether  all  three  tribes  used  to  know  it,  but  have 
forgotten  it,  or  whether  it  has  been  learned  in  comparatively 
modern  times  by  the  Blackfeet  from  the  Crees,  with  whom 
they  have  always  had  more  frecpient  intercourse  and  a  closer 
connection  than  the  other  two  tribes. 

There  is  also  another  version  of  the  origin  of  death.  When 
Old  Man  made  the  first  people,  he  gave  them  very  strong 
bodies,  and  for  a  long  time  no  one  was  sick.  At  last,  a  little 
child  fell  ill.  I'^.ach  day  it  grew  weaker  and  weaker,  and  at 
last  it  fainted.  Then  the  mother  went  to  Old  Man,  and 
prayed  him  to  do  something  for  it. 

"This,"  said  Old  Man,  "'will  be  the  first  time  it  has 
happened  to  the  people.  You  have  seen  the  buffalo  fall  to 
the  ground  when  struck  v-ith  an  arrow.  Their  hearts  stop 
beating,  they  do  not  breathe,  and  soon  their  bodies  become 
cold.  They  are  then  dead.  Now,  woman,  it  shall  be  for 
you  to  decide  whether  death  shall  come  to  the  people  as 
well  as  to  the  other  animals,  or  whether  they  shall  live 
forever.     Come  now  with  me  to  the  river." 


KKI.IGION 


•-^73 


When  they  reached  the  water's  edge,  Old  Man  picked  up 
from  the  ground  a  dry  buffalo  chij)  and  a  stone.  "  Now, 
woman,"  he  said,  "  you  will  tell  me  which  one  of  these  to 
throw  into  the  water.  If  what  1  throw  floats,  your  child 
shall  live;  the  people  shall  live  forever.  If  it  sinks,  then 
your  child  shall  die,  and  all  the  people  shall  die,  each  one 
when  his  time  comes." 

The  woman  stood  still  a  long  time,  looking  from  the  stone 
to  the  buffalo  chip,  and  from  the  chip  to  the  stone.  At  last 
she  said,  "  Throw  the  stone."  Then  Old  Man  tossed  it  into 
the  river,  and  it  sank  to  the  bottom.  "  Woman,"  he  cried, 
"  go  home  ;  your  child  is  dead."  Thus,  on  account  of  a 
foolish  woman,  we  all  must  die. 

The  shadow  of  a  person,  the  Blackfeet  say,  is  his  soul. 
Northeast  of  the  Sweet  Grass  Hills,  near  the  international 
boundary  line,  is  a  bleak,  sandy  country  called  the  Sand 
Hills,  and  there  all  the  shadows  of  the  deceased  good  Blackfeet 
are  congregated.  The  shadows  of  those  who  in  this  world 
led  wicked  lives  are  not  allowed  to  go  there.  After  death, 
these  wicked  persons  take  the  shape  of  ghosts  {Sta-ai/'^), 
and  are  compelled  ever  after  to  remain  near  the  place  Avhere 
they  died.  Unhappy  themselves,  they  envy  those  who  are 
happy,  and  continually  prowl  about  the  lodges  of  the  living, 
seeking  to  do  them  some  injury.  Sometimes  they  tap  on 
the  lodge  skins  and  whistle  down  the  smoke  hole,  but  if  the 
fire  is  burning  within  they  will  not  enter. 

Outside  in  the  dark  they  do  much  harm,  especially  the 
ghosts  of  enemies  who  have  been  killed  in  battle.  These 
sometimes  shoot  invisible  arrows  into  persons,  causing 
sickness  and  death.  They  have  hit  people  on  the  head, 
causing  them  to  become  crazy.  They  have  paralyzed 
people's  limbs,  and  drawn  their  faces  out  of  shape,  and  done 
much  other  harm. 


iTlie   human   skeleton    is    also    called    Sfa-ait' , 
Cheyenne  Mis-tai' ,  ghost. 


i.e.   ghost.     Compare 


ijll 


274 


THE    STORY    OF    TIIF.    TIIREK    TRIBES 


ill  i; 


Ghosts  walk  above  the  ground,  not  on  it.  An  example  of 
this  peculiarity  is  seen  in  the  case  of  the  young  man  who 
visited  the  lodge  of  the  starving  family,  in  the  story  entitled 
Origin  of  the  I-kun-uli^-kcth-tsi. 

Ghosts  sometimes  speak  to  people.  An  instance  of  this 
is  the  following,  which  occurred  to  my  friend  Young  ]>ear 
Chief,  and  which  he  related  Xo  me.  He  said  :  "  I  once  went 
to  war,  and  took  my  wife  with  me.  I  went  to  Uuffalo  Lip 
Butte,  east  of  the  (Cypress  Mountains ;  a  little  creek  runs  by 
it.  I  took  eighteen  horses  from  an  Assinaboine  camp  one 
night,  when  it  was  very  foggy.  I  found  sixteen  horses 
feeding  on  the  hills,  and  went  into  the  camp  and  cut  loose 
two  more.  Tiien  we  went  off  with  tlie  horses.  When  we 
started,  it  was  so  foggy  that  I  could  not  see  the  stars,  and  I 
did  not  know  which  way  to  run.  I  kept  travelling  in  what  I 
supposed  was  the  direction  toward  home,  but  I  did  not 
know  where  I  was  going.  After  we  had  gone  a  long  way,  I 
stopped  and  got  off  my  horse  to  fix  my  belt.  My  wife  did 
not  dismount,  but  sat  there  waiting  for  me  to  mount  and 
ride  on. 

"  I  spoke  to  my  wife,  and  said  to  her,  '  We  don't  know 
which  way  to  go.'  A  voice  spoke  up  right  behind  me  and 
said :  'It  is  well ;  you  go  ahead.  You  are  going  right.' 
When  I  heard  the  voice,  the  top  of  my  head  seemed  to  lift 
up  and  felt  as  if  a  lot  of  needles  were  sticking  into  it.  My 
wife,  who  was  right  in  front  of  me,  was  so  frightened  that 
she  fiiinted  and  fell  off  her  horse,  and  it  was  a  long  time 
before  she  came  to.  When  she  got  so  she  could  ride,  we 
went  on,  and  when  morning  came  I  found  that  we  were 
going  straight,  and  were  on  the  west  side  of  the  West  Butte 
of  the  Sweet  Grass  Hills.  We  got  home  all  right.  This 
must  have  been  a  ghost." 

Now  and  then  among  the  Blackfeet,  we  find  evidences  of 
a  belief  that  the  soul  of  a  dead  person  may  take  up  its 
abode  in  the  body  of  an  animal.     An  example  of  this   is 


rim 


^^ 


RELIGION 


275 


i 


seen  in  the  story  of  E-kus'-kini,  p.  90.     Owls  are  thought  to 
be  the  ghosts  of  medicine  men. 

The  Blackfeet  do  not  consider  the  Sand  Hills  a  happy 
hunting  ground.  There  the  dead,  who  are  themselves 
shadows,  live  in  shadow  lodges,  hunt  shadow  buffalo,  go  to 
war  against  shadow  enemies,  and  in  every  way  lead  an 
existence  which  is  but  a  mimicry  of  this  life.  In  this 
respect  the  lilackfeet  are  almost  alone.  I  know  of  scarcely 
any  other  American  tribe,  certainly  none  east  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  who  are  wholly  without  a  belief  in  a  happy  future 
state.  The  Blackfeet  do  not  especially  say  that  this  future 
life  is  an  unhappy  one,  but,  from  the  way  in  which  they 
speak  of  it,  it  is  clear  that  for  them  it  promises  nothing 
desirable.  It  is  a  monotonous,  never  ending,  and  altogether 
unsatisfying  existence,  —  a  life  as  barren  and  desolate  as  the 
country  which  the  ghosts  inhabit.  These  people  are  as 
much  attached  to  life  as  we  are.  Notwithstanding  the 
unhappy  days  which  have  befallen  them  of  late  years, — 
days  of  privation  and  hunger,  —  they  cling  to  life.  Yet  they 
seem  to  have  no  fear  of  death.  When  their  time  comes, 
they  accept  their  fate  without  a  murmur,  and  tranquilly, 
quietly  pass  away. 


i      IM 


1       L 


I 


11 


b'A 


<v. 


I'll 


I 


MEDICINE    PIPES   AND    HEALING 

The  person  whom  the  whites  term  "  medicine  man  "  is 
called  by  the  Blackfeet  JVi-namp'-skan.  Mr.  Schultz  believes 
this  word  to  be  compounded  of  iiiii'iiah,  man,  and  nainp'- 
ski,  horned  toad  {Phryiiosoina),  and  in  this  he  is  supported 
by  Mr.  Thomas  Bird,  a  very  intelligent  half-breed,  who  has 
translated  a  part  of  the  Bible  into  the  Blackfoot  language  for 
the  Rev.  S.  Trivett,  a  Church  of  iMigland  missionary.  These 
gentlemen  conclude  that  the  word  means  "  all-face  man." 
The  horned  toad  is  called  namf-ski,  all-face  ;  and  as  the 
medicine  man,  with  his  hair  done  up  in  a  huge  topknot, 
bore  a  certain  resemblance  to  this  creature,  he  was  so  named. 
No  one  among  the  Blackfeet  appears  to  have  any  idea  as  to 
what  the  word  means. 

The  medicine  pipes  are  really  only  pipe  stems,  very  long, 
and  beautifully  decorated  with  bright-colored  feathers  and 
the  fur  of  the  weasel  and  other  animals.  It  is  claimed  that 
these  stems  were  given  to  the  people  long,  long  ago,  by  the 
Sun,  and  that  those  who  own  them  are  regarded  by  him  with 
special  favor. 

Formerly  these  stems  were  valued  at  from  fifteen  to  thirty 
head  of  horses,  and  were  bought  and  sold  like  any  other 
property.  When  not  in  use,  they  were  kept  rolled  up  in 
many  thicknesses  of  fine  tanned  fur,  and  with  them  were 
invariably  a  quantity  of  tobacco,  a  sacred  whistle,  two  sacred 
rattles,  and  some  dried  sweet  grass,  and  sweet  pine  needles. 

In  the  daytime,  in  pleasant  weather,  these  sacred  bundles 
were  hung  out  of  doors  behind  the  owners'  lodges,  on  tripods. 
276 


MEDICINE    PIPES    AND    HEALING 


277 


At  night  they  were  suspended  within,  above  the  owners'  seat. 
It  was  said  that  if  at  any  time  a  person  should  walk  com- 
pletely around  the  lodge  of  a  medicine  man,  some  bad  luck 
would  befall  him.  Inside  the  lodge,  no  one  was  allowed  to 
pass  between  the  fireplace  and  the  pipe  stem.  No  one  but 
a  medicine  man  and  his  head  wife  could  move  or  unroll  the 
bundle.  The  man  and  his  wife  were  obliged  always  to  keep 
their  faces,  hands,  and  clothing  painted  with  nits'-i-san,  a 
dull  red  paint,  made  by  burning  a  certain  clay  found  in  the 
bad  lands. 

The  Ni-namf-skan  appears  to  be  a  priest  of  the  Sun,  and 
prayers  offered  through  him  are  thought  to  be  specially 
favored.  So  the  sacred  stem  is  frequently  unrolled  for  the 
benefit  of  the  sick,  for  those  who  are  about  to  undertake  a 
dangerous  expedition,  such  as  a  party  departing  to  war,  for 
prayers  for  the  general  health  and  prosperity  of  the  people, 
and  for  a  bountiful  supply  of  food.  At  the  present  time 
these  ancient  ceremonies  have  largely  fallen  into  disuse.  In 
fact,  since  the  disappearance  of  the  buffalo,  most  of  the  old 
customs  are  dying  out. 

The  thunder  is  believed  to  bring  the  rain  in  spring,  and 
the  rain  makes  the  berries  grow.  It  is  a  rule  that  after  the 
first  thunder  is  heard  in  the  spring,  every  medicine  man 
must  give  a  feast  and  offer  prayers  for  a  large  berry  crop.  I 
have  never  seen  this  ceremony,  but  Mr.  Schultz  was  once 
permitted  to  attend  one,  and  has  given  me  the  following 
account  of  it.  He  said  :  "  When  I  entered  the  lodge  with  the 
other  guests,  the  pipe  stem  had  already  been  unrolled.  Be- 
fore the  fire  were  two  huge  kettles  of  cooked  sarvis  ber- 
ries, a  large  bowlful  of  which  was  soon  set  before  each  guest. 
Each  one,  before  eating,  took  a  few  of  the  berries  and  rubbed 
them  into  the  ground,  saying,  *  Take  pity  on  us,  all  Above 
People,  and  give  us  good.' 

"  When  all  had  finished  eating,  a  large  black  stone  pipe 
bowl  was  filled  and  fitted  to  the  medicine  stem,  and  the 


f  I 


,1 

i 

i 


1   ,. 


W 


■f 


:;  i 

f^ 

i' 

;  ■    ti 

ij 

I;,  ii 

ti 

i     j 

1! 

M 

'ii 

.  -'  -:=3* 

278  THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 

medicine  man  held  it  aloft  and  said  :  *  Listen,  Sun  !  Listen, 
Thunder  !  Listen,  Old  ^Lln  !  All  Above  Animals,  all 
Above  People,  listen.  Pity  us !  You  will  smoke.  We  fill 
the  sacred  pipe.  Let  us  not  starve.  Oive  us  rain  during 
this  summer.  ALike  the  berries  large  and  sweet.  Cover 
the  bushes  with  them.  Look  down  on  us  all  and  pity  us. 
Look  at  the  women  and  the  little  children ;  look  at  us  all. 
Let  us  reach  old  age.  Let  our  lives  be  complete.  Let  us 
destroy  our  enemies.  Help  the  young  men  in  battle.  Man, 
woman,  child,  we  all  pray  to  you  ;  pity  us  and  give  us  good. 
Let  us  survive.' 

"  He  then  danced  the  pipe  dance,  to  be  described  further 
on.  At  this  time,  another  storm  had  come  up,  and  the 
thunder  crashed  directly  over  our  heads. 

"'Listen,'  said  the  medicine  man.  'It  hears  us.  We 
are  not  doing  this  uselessly  ' ;  and  he  raised  his  face,  animated 
with  enthusiasm,  toward  the  sky,  his  whole  body  trembling 
with  excitement ;  and,  holding  the  pipe  aloft,  repeated  his 
prayer.  All  the  rest  of  the  people  were  excited,  and 
repeatedly  clasped  their  arms  over  their  breasts,  saying  : 
'  Pity  us  ;  good  give  us  ;  gootl  give  us.     Let  us  survive.' 

"  After  this,  the  pipe  was  handed  to  a  man  on  the  right  of 
the  semi-circle.  Another  warrior  took  a  lighted  brand  from 
the  fire,  and  counted  four  coups,  at  the  end  of  each  coup 
touching  the  pipe  bowl  with  the  brand.  When  he  had 
counted  the  fourth  coup,  the  pipe  was  lighted.  It  was  then 
smoked  in  turn  around  the  circle,  each  one,  as  he  received 
it,  repeating  a  short  prayer  before  he  put  the  stem  to  his 
lips.  When  it  was  smoked  out,  a  hole  was  dug  in  the  ground, 
the  ashes  were  knocked  into  it  and  carefully  covered  over, 
and  the  thunder  ceremony  was  ended." 

In  the  year  1885,  I  was  present  at  the  unwrapping  of  the 
medicine  pipe  by  Red  Eagle,  an  aged  Ni-iiainp'-skan,  since 
dead.  On  this  occasion  prayers  were  made  for  the  success 
of  a  party  of  Piegans  who  had  started  in  pursuit  of  some 


MEOICINK    PIPES    AND    HEALING 


279 


Crows  who  had  taken  a  large  band  of  horses  from  the 
Piegans  the  day  before.  The  ceremony  was  a  very  impres- 
sive one,  and  prayers  were  offered  not  only  for  the  success  of 
this  war  party,  but  also  for  the  general  good,  as  well  as  for 
the  welfare  of  special  individuals,  who  were  mentioned  by 
name.  The  concluding  words  of  the  general  prayer  were 
as  follows  :  "  May  all  people  have  full  life.  Give  to  all 
heavy  bodies.  Let  the  young  people  grow ;  increase  their 
flesh.  Ix't  all  men,  women,  and  children  have  full  life. 
Harden  the  bodies  of  the  old  people  so  that  they  may  reach 
great  age." 

In  1879,  Mr.  Schultz  saw  a  sacred  pipe  unwrapped  for  the 
benefit  of  a  sick  woman,  and  on  various  occasions  since  he 
has  been  present  at  this  ceremony.  All  accounts  of  what 
takes  place  agree  so  closely  with  what  I  saw  that  I  give  only 
one  of  them.  Mr.  Schultz  wrote  me  of  the  first  occasion  : 
"  When  I  entered  the  lodge,  it  was  already  well  filled  with 
men  who  had  been  invited  to  participate  in  the  ceremony. 
The  medicine  man  was  aged  and  gray-headed,  and  his  feeble 
limbs  could  scarcely  support  his  body.  Between  him  and 
his  wife  was  the  bundle  which  contained  the  medicine  pipe, 
as  yet  unwrapped,  lying  on  a  carefully  folded  buffalo  robe. 
Plates  of  food  were  placed  before  each  guest,  and  after  all 
had  finished  eating,  and  a  common  pipe  had  been  lighted  to 
be  smoked  around  the  circle,  the  ceremony  began, 

"  \\'ith  wooden  tongs,  the  woman  took  a  large  coal  from 
the  fire,  and  laitl  it  on  the  ground  in  front  of  the  sacred  stem. 
Then,  while  every  one  joined  in  singing  a  chant,  a  song  of 
the  buffalo  (without  words),  she  took  a  bunch  of  dried  sweet 
grass,  and,  raising  and  lowering  her  hand  in  time  to  the  music, 
finally  placed  tiie  grass  on  the  burning  coals.  As  the  thin 
column  of  perfumed  smoke  rose  from  the  burning  herb,  both 
she  and  the  medicine  man  grasped  handfuls  of  it  and  rubbed 
it  over  their  persons,  to  purify  themselves  before  touching 
the  sacred  roll.     They  also  took  each  a  small  piece  of  some 


T 


Vl; 


280 


THE    SroKV    OV    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


1^1    '     I 


5l !  -i 


r  I 


■ 


root  from  a  little  pouch,  and  ate  it,  signifying  that  they  puri- 
fied themselves  without  and  within. 

"  The  man  and  woman  now  faced  each  other  and  again 
began  the  buffalo  song,  keeping  time  by  touching  with  the 
clenched  hands  —  the  right  and  left  alternately  —  the  wrap- 
pings of  the  pipe,  occasionally  making  the  sign  for  buffalo. 
Now,  too,  one  could  occasionally  hear  the  word  JVai-ai' '  in 
the  song.  After  singing  this  song  for  about  ten  minutes,  it 
was  changed  to  the  antelope  song,  and,  instead  of  touching 
the  roll  with  the  clenched  hands,  which  represented  the 
heavy  tread  of  buffalo,  they  closed  the  hands,  leaving  the 
index  finger  extended  and  the  thumbs  ])artly  open,  and  in 
time  to  the  music,  as  in  the  previous  song,  alternately  touched 
the  wrappers  with  the  tips  of  the  left  and  right  forefinger, 
the  motions  being  ciuick  and  firm,  and  occasionally  brought 
the  hands  to  the  side  of  the  head,  making  the  sign  for 
antelope,  and  at  the  same  time  uttering  a  loud  'A'///;,' to 
represent  the  whistling  or  snorting  of  that  animal. 

"  At  the  conclusion  of  this  song,  the  woman  put  another 
bunch  of  sweet  grass  on  a  coal,  and  carefully  undid  the  wra[)- 
pings  of  the  pipe,  holding  each  one  over  the  smoke  to  keep 
it  piu-e.  \\'hen  the  last  wrapping  was  removed,  the  man 
gently  grasped  the  stem  and,  every  one  beginning  the  pipe 
song,  he  raised  and  lowered  it  several  times,  shaking  it  as  he 
did  so,  until  every  feather  and  bit  of  fur  and  scalp  hung  loose 
and  could  be  plainly  seen. 

"  At  this  moment  the  sick  woman  entered  the  lodge,  and 
with  great  difficulty,  for  she  was  very  weak,  walked  over  to 
the  medicine  woman  and  knelt  down  before  her.  The 
medicine  woman  then  produced  a  small  bag  of  red  paint,  and 
painted  a  broad  band  across  the  sick  woman's  forehead,  a 
stripe  down  the  nose,  and  a  n\nnber  of  round  dots  on  each 
cheek.  Then  picking  up  the  pipe  stem,  which  the  man  had 
laid  down,  she  held  it  up  toward  the  sky  and  prayed,  saying, 

1  My  shelter;  my  covering ;  my  roljc. 


MEDICINK    I'IPP:S    AND    HKAIJNG 


281 


'  Listen,  Sun,  pity  us  !  Listen,  Old  Man,  pity  us  !  Above 
People,  pity  us  !  Under  Water  People,  pity  us  !  Listen, 
Sun  !  Listen,  Sun  !  Let  us  survive,  pity  us  !  Let  us  sur- 
vive. Look  down  on  our  sick  daughter  tliis  day.  Pity  her 
and  give  her  a  complete  life.'  At  the  conclusion  of  this 
short  prayer,  all  the  people  uttered  a  loud  m-m-m-h,  signify- 
ing that  they  took  the  words  to  their  hearts.  Every  one  now 
commenced  the  pipe  song,  and  the  medicine  woman  passed 
tlie  stem  over  different  parts  of  the  sick  woman's  body,  aftei 
which  she  rose  and  left  the  lodge. 

"  The  medicine  man  now  took  a  common  pipe  which  had 
been  lighted,  and  blew  four  whiffs  of  smoke  toward  the  sky, 
four  toward  the  ground,  and  four  on  the  medicine  pipe 
stem,  and  prayed  to  the  Sun,  Old  Man,  and  all  medicine 
animals,  to  pity  the  people  and  give  them  long  life.  The 
drums  were  then  produced,  the  war  song  commenced,  and 
the  old  man,  with  a  rattle  in  each  hand,  danced  four  times 
to  the  door-way  and  back.  He  stooped  slightly,  kept  all  his 
limbs  very  rigid,  extending  his  arms  like  one  giving  a 
benediction,  and  danced  in  time  to  the  drumming  and 
singing  with  quick,  sudden  steps.  This  is  the  medicine  pipe 
dance,  which  no  one  but  a  pipe-owner  is  allowed  to  perform. 
Afterward,  he  picked  up  the  j^ipe  stem,  and,  holding  it 
aloft  in  front  of  him,  went  through  the  same  performance. 
At  the  conclusion  of  the  dance,  the  pipe  stem  was  passed 
from  one  to  another  of  the  guests,  and  each  one  in  turn  held 
it  aloft  and  repeated  a  short  prayer.  The  man  on  my  right 
prayed  for  the  health  of  his  children,  the  one  on  my  left  for 
success  in  a  proposed  war  expedition.  This  concluded  the 
ceremony." 

Disease  among  the  Blackfeet  is  supposed  to  be  caused  by 
evil  spirits,  usually  the  spirits  or  ghosts  of  enemies  slain  in 
batde.  These  spirits  are  said  to  wander  about  at  night,  and 
whenever  opportunity  offers,  they  shoot  invisible  arrows  into 
persons.     These   cause  various  internal   troubles,  such   as 


iJ 


;  I 


if     : 


,    : 


282 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


consumption,  hemorrhages,  and  diseases  of  the  digestive 
organs.  Mice,  frogs,  snakes,  and  tailed  batrachians  are  said 
to  cause  much  disease  among  women,  and  hence  should  be 
shunned,  and  on  no  account  handled. 

Less  important  external  ailments  and  hurts,  such  as  ulcers, 
boils,  sprains,  and  so  on,  are  treated  by  applying  various 
lotions  or  poultices,  compounded  by  boiling  or  macerating 
certain  roots  or  herbs,  known  only  to  the  person  supplying 
them.  Rheumatic  pains  are  treated  in  several  ways.  Some- 
times the  sweat  lodge  is  used,  or  hot  rocks  are  applied  over 
the  place  where  the  pain  is  most  severe,  or  actual  cautery  is 
jiractised,  by  inserting  prickly  pear  thorna  in  the  flesh,  and 
setting  fire  to  them,  when  they  burn  to  the  very  point. 

The  sweat  lodge,  so  often  referred  to,  is  used  as  a 
curative  agent,  as  well  as  in  religious  ceremonies,  and  is 
considered  very  beneficial  in  illness  of  all  kinds.  The 
sweat  lodge  is  built  in  the  shape  of  a  rough  hemisphere, 
three  or  four  feet  high  and  six  or  eight  in  diameter.  The 
frame  is  usually  of  willow  branches,  and  is  covered  with  cow- 
skins  and  robes.  In  the  centre  of  the  floor,  a  small  hole 
is  dug  out,  in  which  are  to  be  placed  red  hot  stones. 
Everything  being  ready,  those  who  are  to  take  the  sweat 
remove  their  clothing  and  crowd  into  the  lodge.  The  hot 
rocks  are  then  handed  in  from  the  fire  outside,  and  the 
cowskins  pulled  down  to  the  ground  to  exclude  any  cold  air. 
If  a  medicine  pipe  man  is  not  at  hand,  the  oldest  person 
present  begins  to  pray  to  the  Sun,  and  at  the  same  time 
sprinkles  water  on  the  hot  rocks,  and  a  dense  steam  rises, 
making  the  perspiration  fairly  drip  from  the  body.  Oc- 
casionally, if  the  heat  becomes  too  intense,  the  covering  is 
raised  for  a  few  minutes  to  admit  a  little  air.  The  sweat 
bath  lasts  for  a  long  time,  often  an  hour  or  more,  during 
which  many  prayers  are  offered,  religious  songs  chanted,  and 
several  pipes  smoked  to  the  Sun.  As  has  been  said,  the 
sweat  lodge  is  built  to  represent  the  Sun's  own  lodge  or 


MEDICINE    PIPES    AND    HEALING 


283 


home,  that  is,  the  world.  The  ground  inside  the  lodge 
stands  for  its  surface,  which,  according  to  Blackfoot  phi- 
losophy, is  fiat  and  round.  The  framework  represents  the 
sky,  which  far  off,  on  the  horizon,  reaches  down  to  and 
touches  the  world. 

As  soon  as  the  sweat  is  over,  the  men  rush  out,  and  plunge 
into  the  stream  to  cool  off.  This  is  invariably  done,  even  in 
winter,  when  the  ice  has  to  be  broken  to  make  a  hole  large 
enough  to  bathe  in.  It  is  said  that,  when  the  small-pox  was 
raging  among  these  Indians,  they  used  the  sweat  lodge  daily, 
and  that  hundreds  of  them,  sick  with  the  disease,  were 
unable  to  get  out  of  the  river,  after  taking  the  bath  succeed- 
ing a  sweat,  and  were  carried  down  stream  by  the  current 
and  drowned. 

It  is  said  that  wolves,  which  in  former  days  were  extremely 
numerous,  sometimes  went  crazy,  and  bit  ev^^v  animal  they 
met  with,  sometimes  even  coming  into  canips  and  biting 
dogs,  horses,  and  people.  Persons  bitten  by  a  mad  wolf 
generally  went  mad,  too.  They  trembled  and  their  limbs 
jerked,  they  made  their  jaws  work  and  foamed  at  the  mouth, 
often  trying  to  bite  other  people.  When  any  one  acted  in 
this  way,  his  relations  tied  him  hand  and  foot  with  ropes, 
and,  having  killed  a  buffalo,  they  rolled  him  up  in  the  green 
hide,  and  tiicn  built  a  fire  on  and  around  him,  leaving  him 
in  the  fire  until  the  hide  began  to  dry  and  burn.  Then  they 
pulled  him  out  and  removed  the  buffalo  hide,  and  he  was  cured. 
AMiile  in  the  fire,  the  great  heat  caused  him  to  sweat 
profusely,  so  mucj\  water  coming  out  of  his  body  that  none 
was  left  in  it,  and  with  the  water  the  disease  went  out,  too. 
All  the  old  people  tell  me  that  they  have  seen  individuals 
cured  in  this  manner  of  a  mad  wolf's  bite. 

Whenever  a  person  is  really  sick,  a  doctor  is  sent  for. 
Custom  requires  that  he  shall  be  i)aid  for  his  services  before 
rendering  them.  So  when  he  is  called,  the  messenger  says 
to  him,  "  A presents  to  you  a  horse,  and  asks  you  to 


; 


1  ;i 


284 


THK    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


come  and  doctor  him."  Sometimes  the  fee  may  be  several 
horses,  and  sometimes  a  gun,  saddle,  or  some  article  of 
wearing-apparel.  This  fee  pays  only  for  one  visit,  but  the 
duration  of  the  visit  is  seldom  less  than  twelve  hours,  and 
sometimes  exceeds  forty- eight.  If,  after  the  expiration  of 
the  visit,  the  patient  feels  that  he  has  been  benefited,  he 
will  probably  send  for  the  doctor  again,  but  if,  on  the  other 
hand,  he  continues  to  grow  worse,  he  is  likely  to  send  for 
another.  Not  infrequently  two  or  more  doctors  may  be 
present  at  the  same  time,  taking  turns  with  the  patient.  In 
early  days,  if  a  man  fell  sick,  and  remained  so  for  three 
weeks  or  a  month,  he  had  to  start  anew  in  life  when  he 
recovered ;  for,  unless  very  wealthy,  all  his  possessions  had 
gone  to  pay  doctor's  fees.  Often  the  last  horse,  and  even 
the  lodge,  weapons,  and  extra  clothing  were  so  parted  with. 
Of  late  years,  however,  since  the  disappearance  of  the  buffalo, 
the  doctors'  fees  are  much  more  moderate. 

The  doctor  is  named  I-so-kiii'-iih-kiii,  a  word  difficult  to 
translate.  The  nearest  English  meaning  of  the  word  seems 
to  be  "  heavy  singer  for  the  sick."  As  a  rule  all  doctors  sing 
while  endeavoring  to  work  their  cures,  and,  as  helpers,  a 
number  of  women  are  always  present.  Disease  being  caused 
by  evil  spirits,  prayers,  exhortations,  and  certain  mysterious 
methods  must  be  observed  to  rid  the  patient  of  their 
influence.  No  two  doctors  have  the  same  methods  or  songs. 
Herbs  are  sometimes  used,  but  not  always.  One  of  their 
medicines  is  a  great  yellow  fungus  which  grows  on  the  pine 
trees.  This  is  dried  and  powdered,  and  administered  either 
dry  or  in  an  infusion.  It  is  a  purgative.  As  a  rule,  these 
doctors,  while  practising  iheir  rites,  will  not  allow  any  one  in 
the  lodge,  except  the  immediate  members  of  the  sick  man's 
family.  Mr.  Schultz,  who  on  more  than  one  occasion  has 
been  present  at  a  doctoring,  gives  the  following  accotmt  of 
one  of  the  performances. 

"  The  patient  was  a  man  in  the  last  stages  of  consumption. 


■ta 


IBM 


MEDICINE    I'lI'ES    AND    HEALINO 


285 


When  the  doctor  entered  the  lodge,  he  handed  the  sick  man 
a  strip  of  buckskin,  and  told  him  to  tie  it  around  his  chest. 
The  patient  then  recHned  on  a  couch,  stripped  to  the  waist, 
and  the  doctor  kneeled  on  the  floor  beside  him.  Having 
cleared  a  little  space  of  the  loose  dirt  and  dust,  the  doctor 
took  two  coals  from  the  fire,  laid  them  in  this  place,  and  put 
a  pinch  of  dried  sweet  grass  on  each  of  them.  As  the  smoke 
arose  from  the  burning  grass,  he  held  his  drum  over  it,  turn- 
ing it  from  side  to  side,  and  round  and  round.  This  was 
supposed  to  purify  it.  Laying  aside  the  drum,  he  held  his 
hands  in  the  smoke,  and  rubbed  his  arms  and  body  with  it. 
Then,  picking  up  the  drum,  he  began  to  tap  it  rapidly,  and 
prayed,  saying :  '  T-isten,  my  dream.  This  you  told  me 
should  be  done.  This  you  said  should  be  the  way.  You 
said  it  would  cure  the  sick.  Help  me  now.  Do  not  lie  to 
me.  Help  me,  Sun  person.  Help  me  to  cure  this  sick  man.' 
"  He  then  began  to  sing,  and  as  soon  as  the  women  had 
caught  the  air,  he  handed  the  drum  to  one  of  them  to  beat, 
and,  still  singing  himself,  took  an  eagle's  wing  and  dipped 
the  tip  of  it  in  a  cup  of  '  medicine.'  It  was  a  clear  liquid, 
and  looked  as  if  it  might  be  simply  water.  Placing  the  tip 
of  the  wing  in  his  mouth,  he  seemed  to  bite  off  the  end  of  it, 
and,  chewing  it  a  litUe,  spat  it  out  on  the  patient's  breast. 
Then,  in  time  to  the  singing,  he  brushed  it  gently  off,  begin- 
ning at  the  throat  and  ending  at  the  lower  ribs.  This  was 
repeated  three  times.  Next  he  took  the  bandage  from  the 
patient,  dipped  it  in  the  cup  of  medicine,  and,  wringing  it  out, 
placed  it  on  the  sick  man's  chest,  and  rubbed  it  up  and 
down,  and  back  and  forth,  after  which  he  again  brushed  the 
breast  with  the  eagle  wing.  Finally,  he  lighted  a  pipe,  and, 
placing  the  bowl  in  his  mouth,  blew  the  smoke  through  the 
stem  all  over  the  patient's  breast,  shoulders,  neck,  and  arms, 
and  finished  the  ceremony  by  again  brushing  with  the  wing. 
At  intervals  of  two  or  three  hours,  the  whole  ceremony  was 
repeated.    The  doctor  arrived  at  the  lodge  of  the  sick  man 


'\  it 


286 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


n 


[!   fl 


about  noon,  and  left  the  next  morning,  having  received  for 
his  services  a  saddle  and  two  blankets." 

"  Listen,  my  dream —  "  This  is  the  key  to  most  of  the 
Blackfoot  medicine  practices.  These  doctors  for  the  most 
part  effect  their  cures  by  prayer.  Fich  one  has  his  dream, 
or  secret  helper,  to  whom  he  prays  for  aid,  and  it  is  by  this 
help  that  he  expects  to  restore  his  patient  to  health.  No 
doubt  the  doctors  have  the  fullest  confidence  that  their 
practices  are  beneficial,  and  in  some  cases  they  undoubtedly 
do  good  because  of  the  implicit  confidence  felt  in  them  by 
the  patient. 

Often,  when  a  person  is  sick,  he  will  ask  some  medicine 
man  to  unroll  his  pipe.  If  able  to  dance,  he  will  take  part 
in  the  ceremony,  but  if  not,  the  medicine  man  paints  him 
with  the  sacred  symbols.  In  any  case  a  fervent  prayer  is 
offered  by  the  medicine  man  for  the  sick  person's  recovery. 
The  medicine  man  administers  no  remedies  ;  the  ceremony 
is  purely  religious.  Being  a  priest  of  the  Sun,  it  is  thought 
that  god  will  be  more  likely  to  listen  to  him  than  he  would 
to  an  ordinary  man. 

Although  the  majority  of  Blackfoot  doctors  are  men,  there 
are  also  many  women  in  the  guild,  and  some  of  them  are 
quite  noted  for  their  success.  Such  a  woman,  named  Wood 
Chief  Woman,  is  now  alive  on  the  Blackfoot  reservation. 
She  has  effected  many  wonderful  cures.  Two  Bear  Woman 
is  a  good  doctor,  and  there  are  many  others. 

In  the  case  of  gunshot  wounds  a  man's  "  dream,"  or 
"medicine,"  often  acts  directly  and  speedily.  Many  cases 
are  cited  in  which  this  charm,  often  the  stuffed  skin  of  some 
bird  or  animal,  belonging  to  the  wounded  man,  becomes  alive, 
and  by  its  power  effects  a  cure.  Many  examples  of  this 
might  be  given  but  for  lack  of  space.  Entirely  honest 
Indi-ins  and  white  men  have  seen  such  cures  and  believe  in 
them. 


THE   BLACKFOOT   OF   TO-DAY 


In  the  olden  times  the  Blackfeet  were  very  numerous,  and 
it  is  said  that  then  they  were  a  strong  and  hardy  people,  and 
few  of  them  were  ever  sick.  Most  of  the  men  who  died  were 
killed  in  battle,  or  died  of  old  age.  We  may  well  enough 
believe  that  this  was  the  case,  because  the  conditions  of  their 
life  in  those  primitive  times  were  such  that  *he  weakly  and 
those  predisposed  to  any  constitutional  trouble  would  not 
survive  early  childhood.  Only  the  strongest  of  the  children 
would  grow  up  to  become  the  parents  of  the  next  genera- 
tion. Thus  a  process  of  selection  was  constantly  going  on, 
the  effect  of  which  was  no  doubt  seen  in  the  general  health 
of  the  people. 

With  the  advent  of  the  whites,  came  new  conditions. 
Various  special  diseases  were  introduced  and  swept  off  large 
numbers  of  the  people.  An  important  agent  in  their  destruc- 
tion was  alcohol. 

In  the  year  1845,  the  Blackfeet  were  decimated  by  the 
small-pox.  This  disease  appears  to  have  travelled  up  the 
Missouri  River;  and  in  the  early  years,  between  1840  and 
1850,  it  swept  away  hosts  of  Mandans,  Rees,  Sioux,  Crows, 
and  other  tribes  camped  along  the  great  river.  I  have  been 
told,  by  a  man  who  was  employed  at  Fort  Union  in  1842-43, 
that  the  Indians  died  there  in  such  numbers  that  the  men  of 
the  fort  were  kept  constantly  at  work  digging  trenches  in 
which  to  bury  them,  and  when  winter  came,  and  the  ground 
froze  so  hard  that  it  was  no  longer  practicable  to  bury  the 
dead,  their  bodies  were  stacked  up  like  cord  wood  in  great 

287 


288 


THF.    srOKV    OF    THF.    THREE    TKinKS 


11 
I       i\ 


if 


I 


11' 


piles  lu  await  the  coming  of  Hpring.  The  disease  spread 
from  tribe  to  tribe,  and  fmally  reached  the  Hlackfeet.  It 
ib  said  by  whites  who  were  in  the  country  at  the  time,  that 
this  small-pox  almost  swept  the  Plains  bare  of  Indians. 

In  the  winter  of  1S57-5S,  small-pox  again  carried  off  great 
numbers,  but  the  mortality  was  not  to  be  com[)ared  with  that 
of  1845.  In  1864,  measles  ran  through  all  the  Bhukfoot 
camps,  and  was  very  fatal,  and  again  in  1869  they  had  the 
small-pox. 

Between  the  years  i860  and  1875,  'I  great  deal  of  whiskey 
was  traded  to  the  Blackfeet.  Having  once  experienced  the 
delights  of  intoxication,  the  Indians  were  eager  for  liijuor, 
and  the  traders  found  that  robes  and  furs  coukl  be  bought 
to  better  advantage  for  whiskey  than  for  anything  else.  To 
be  sure,  the  personal  risk  to  the  trader  was  considerably  in- 
creased by  the  sale  of  whiskey,  for  when  drunk  the  Indians 
fought  like  demons  among  themselves  or  with  the  traders. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  whiskey  for  trading  to  Indians  cost 
but  a  trifle,  and  could  be  worked  up,  and  then  diluted,  so 
that  a  little  would  go  a  long  way. 

As  a  measure  of  partial  self-protection,  the  traders  used  to 
deal  out  the  liquor  from  the  keg  or  barrel  in  a  tin  scoop  so 
constructed  that  it  would  not  stand  on  a  flat  surface,  so 
that  an  Indian,  who  was  drinking,  had  to  keep  the  vessel  in 
his  hand  until  the  li([U()r  was  consumed,  or  else  it  would  be 
spilled  and  lost.  This  lessened  the  danger  of  any  shooting 
or  stabbing  while  the  Indian  was  drinking,  and  an  effort  was 
usually  made  to  get  him  out  of  the  store  as  soon  as  he  had 
finished.  Nevertheless,  drunken  fights  in  the  trading-stores 
were  of  common  occurrence,  and  tiie  life  of  a  whiskey-trader 
was  one  of  constant  peril.  I  have  talked  with  many  men 
who  were  engaged  in  this  traffic,  and  some  of  the  stories  they 
tell  are  thrilling.  It  was  a  common  thing  in  winter  for  the 
man  who  unbarred  and  opened  the  store  in  the  morning  to 
have  a  dead  Indian  foil  into  his  arms  as  the  door  swung 


THE    BLACKFOOT   OF    TO-DAY 


289 


open.  To  prop  up  against  the  door  a  companion  who  had 
been  killed  or  frozen  to  death  during  the  night  seems  to  have 
been  regarded  by  the  Indians  as  rather  a  delicate  bit  of 
humor,  in  the  nature  of  a  joke  on  the  trader.  Long  histories 
of  the  doings  of  these  whiskey  trading  days  have  been  related 
to  me,  but  the  details  are  too  repulsive  to  be  set  down. 
The  traffic  was  very  fatal  to  the  Indians. 

The  United  States  has  laws  which  prohibit,  under  severe 
penalties,  the  sale  of  intoxicants  to  Indians,  but  these  laws 
are  seldom  enforced.  To  the  north  of  the  boundary  line, 
however,  in  the  Northwest  Territories,  the  Canadian  Mounted 
Police  have  of  late  years  made  whiskey-trading  perilous 
business.  Of  Major  Steell's  good  work  in  putting  down  the 
whiskey  traffic  on  the  Blackfoot  agency  in  Montana,  I  shall 
speak  further  on,  and  to-day  there  is  not  very  much  whiskey 
sold  to  the  Blackfeet.  Constant  vigilance  is  needed,  how- 
ever, to  keep  traders  from  the  borders  of  the  reservation. 

In  the  winter  of  18S3-84  more  than  a  quarter  of  the  Piegan 
tribe  of  the  Blackfeet,  which  then  numbered  about  twenty- 
five  or  twenty-six  hundred,  died  from  starvation.  It  had 
been  reported  to  the  Indian  Bureau  that  the  Blackfeet  were 
practically  self-supporting  and  needed  few  supplies.  As  a 
consequence  of  this  report,  appropriations  for  them  were 
small.  The  statement  was  entirely  and  fatally  misleading. 
The  Blackfeet  had  then  never  done  anything  toward  self- 
support,  except  to  kill  buffalo.  But  just  before  this,  in 
the  year  1883,  the  buffalo  had  been  exterminated  from  the 
Blackfoot  country.  In  a  moment,  and  without  warning,  the 
people  had  been  deprived  of  the  food  supply  on  which  they 
had  depended.  At  once  they  had  turned  their  attention  to 
the  smaller  game,  and,  hunting  faithfully  the  river  bottoms, 
the  brush  along  the  small  streams,  and  the  sides  of  the  moun- 
tains, had  killed  off  all  the  deer,  elk,  and  antelope ;  and  at 
the  beginning  of  the  winter  found  themselves  without  their 
usual  stores  of  dried  meat,  and  with  nothing  to  depend  on, 


:i' 


r 


li 


■, 


1! 


n 


n 


li: 


290 


THE    STORY    OF   THE    THREE     ITIBES 


except  the  scanty  supplies  in  the  government  storehouse. 
These  were  ridiculously  inadequate  to  the  wants  of  twenty- 
five  hundred  people,  and  food  could  be  issued  to  them  only 
in  driblets  quite  insufficient  to  sustain  life.  The  men  de- 
voted themselves  with  the  utmost  faithfulness  to  hunting, 
killing  birds,  rabbits,  prairie-dogs,  rats,  anything  that  had 
life  ;  but  do  the  best  they  might,  the  people  began  to  starve. 
The  very  old  and  the  very  young  were  the  first  to  perish ; 
after  that,  those  who  were  weak  and  sickly,  and  at  last  some 
even  among  the  strong  and  hardy.  News  of  this  suffering 
was  sent  East,  and  Congress  ordered  appropriations  to  relieve 
the  distress ;  but  the  supplies  had  to  be  freighted  in  wagons 
for  one  hundred  and  fifty  or  two  hundred  miles  before  they 
were  available.  If  the  Blackfeet  had  been  obliged  to  depend 
on  the  supplies  authorized  by  the  Indian  Bureau,  the  whole 
tribe  might  have  perished,  for  the  red  tape  methods  of  the 
Government  are  not  adapted  to  prompt  and  efficient  action 
in  times  of  emergency.  Happily,  help  was  nearer  at  hand. 
The  noble  people  of  Montana,  and  the  army  officers  stationed 
at  Fort  Shaw,  did  all  they  could  to  get  supplies  to  the  suf- 
ferers. One  or  two  Montana  contractors  sent  on  flour  and 
bacon,  on  the  personal  assurance  of  the  newly  appointed 
agent  that  he  would  try  to  have  them  paid.  But  it  took  a 
long  time  to  get  even  these  supplies  to  the  agency,  over 
roads  sometimes  hub  deep  in  mud,  or  again  rough  with 
great  masses  of  frozen  clay  ;  and  all  the  time  the  people 
were  dying. 

During  the  winter.  Major  Allen  had  been  appointed  agent 
for  the  Blackfeet,  and  he  reached  the  agency  in  the  midst 
of  the  worst  suffering,  and  before  any  effort  had  been  made 
to  relieve  it.  He  has  told  me  a  heart-rending  story  of  the 
frightful  suffering  which  he  found  among  these  helpless 
people. 

In  his  efforts  to  learn  exactly  what  was  their  condition, 
Major  Allen  one  day  went  into  twenty-three  houses  and 


^sil._ 


MMimMai 


THE    BLACKFOOT   OF    TO-DAY 


291 


lodges  to  see  for  himself  just  what  the  Indians  had  to  eat. 
In  only  two  of  these  homes  did  he  find  anything  in  the  shape 
of  food.  In  one  house  a  rabbit  was  boiling  in  a  pot.  The 
man  had  killed  it  that  morning,  and  it  was  being  cooked  for 
a  starving  child.  In  another  lodge,  the  hoof  of  a  steer  was 
cooking,  —  only  the  hoof,  —  to  make  soup  for  the  family. 
Twenty-three  lodges  Major  Allen  visited  that  day,  and  the 
little  rabbit  and  the  steer's  hoof  were  all  the  food  he  found. 
"  And  then,"  he  told  me,  with  tears  in  his  eyts,  "  I  broke 
down.  I  could  go  no  further.  To  see  so  much  misery,  and 
feel  myself  utterly  powerless  to  relieve  it,  was  more  than  I 
could  stand." 

Major  Allen  had  calculated  with  exactest  care  the  sup- 
plies on  hand,  and  at  this  time  was  issuing  one-seventh 
rations.  The  Indians  crowded  around  the  agency  buildings 
and  begged  for  food.  Mothers  came  to  the  windows  and 
held  up  their  starving  babies  that  the  sight  of  their  dull, 
pallid  faces,  their  shrunken  limbs,  and  their  little  bones 
sticking  through  their  skins  might  move  some  heart  to  pity. 
Women  brought  their  young  daughters  to  the  white  men  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  said,  "  Here,  you  may  have  her,  if 
you  will  feed  her ;  I  want  nothing  for  myself ;  only  let  her 
have  enough  to  eat,  that  she  may  not  die."  One  day,  a 
deputation  of  the  chiefs  came  to  Major  Allen,  and  asked 
him  to  give  them  what  he  had  in  his  storehouses.  He 
explained  to  them  that  it  must  be  some  time  before  the 
supplies  could  get  there,  and  that  only  by  dealing  out  what 
he  had  with  the  greatest  care  could  the  peoi)le  be  kept 
alive  until  provisions  came.  But  they  said  :  "  Our  women 
and  children  are  hungry,  and  we  are  hungry.  Give  us  what 
you  have,  and  let  us  eat  once  and  be  filled.  Then  we  will 
die  content ;  we  will  not  beg  any  more."  He  took  them 
into  the  storehouse,  and  showed  them  just  what  food  he 
had,  —  how  much  flour,  how  much  bacon,  how  much  rice, 
coffee,  sugar,  and  so  on  through  the  list  —  and  then  told  them 


N 


292 


THE    STORY    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


{ 

, 

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i 

''         1 

1 
ll 

that  if  this  was  issued  all  at  once,  there  was  no  hope  for 
them,  they  would  surely  die,  but  that  he  expected  supplies 
by  a  certain  day.  "And,"  said  he,  "if  they  do  not  come 
by  that  time,  you  shall  come  in  here  and  help  yourselves. 
That  I  promise  you."     They  went  away  satisfied. 

Meanwhile,  the  supplies  were  drawing  near.  The  officer 
in  command  of  P'ort  Shaw  had  supplied  fast  teams  to  hurry 
on  a  few  loads  to  the  agency,  but  the  roads  were  so  bad 
that  the  wagon  trains  moved  with  appalling  slowness.  At 
length,  however,  they  had  advanced  so  far  that  it  was 
possible  to  send  out  light  teams,  to  meet  the  heavily  laden 
ones,  and  bring  in  a  few  sacks  of  flour  and  bacon  ;  and  every 
little  helped.  Gradually  the  suffering  was  relieved,  but  the 
memory  of  that  awful  season  of  famine  will  never  pass  from 
the  minds  of  those  who  witnessed  it. 

There  is  a  record  of  between  four  and  five  hundred 
Indians  who  died  of  hunger  at  this  time,  and  this  includes 
only  those  who  were  buried  in  the  immediate  neighborhood 
of  the  agency  and  for  whom  coffins  were  made.  It  is  prob- 
able that  nearly  as  many  more  died  in  the  camps  on  other 
creeks,  but  this  is  mere  conjecture.  It  is  no  exaggeration 
to  say,  however,  that  from  one-quarter  to  one-third  of  the 
Piegan  tribe  starved  to  death  during  that  winter  and  the 
following  spring. 

The  change  from  living  in  portable  and  more  or  less 
open  lodges  to  permanent  dwellings  has  been  followed  by 
a  great  deal  of  illness,  and  at  present  the  people  appear 
to  be  sickly,  though  not  so  much  so  as  some  other  tribes 
I  have  known,  living  under  similar  conditions  further  south. 

Like  other  Indians,  the  Blackfeet  have  been  several  times 
a  prey  to  bad  agents, —  men  careless  of  their  welfare,  who 
thought  only  about  drawing  their  own  pay,  or,  worse,  who 
used  their  positions  simply  for  their  own  enrichment,  and 
stole  from  the  government  and  Indians  alike  everything 
upon  which  they  could  lay  hands.     It  was  with  great  satis- 


THE    BLACKFOOT    OF    TO-DAY 


293 


faction  that  I  secured  the  discharge  of  one  such  man  a  few 
years  ago,  and  I  only  regret  that  it  was  not  in  my  power 
to  have  carried  the  matter  so  far  that  he  might  have  spent 
a  few  years  in  prison. 

The  present  agent  of  the  Blackfeet,  Major  George  Steell, 
is  an  old-timer  in  the  country  and  untlerstands  Indians  very 
thoroughly.  In  one  respeci,  he  has  done  more  for  this 
people  than  any  other  man  who  has  ever  had  charge  of 
them,  for  he  has  been  an  uncompromising  enemy  of  the 
whiskey  trafific,  and  has  relentlessly  pursued  the  white  men 
who  always  gather  about  an  agency  to  sell  whiskey  to  the 
Indians,  and  thus  not  only  rob  them  of  their  possessions, 
but  degrade  them  as  well.  The  prison  doors  of  Deer  Lodge 
have  more  than  once  opened  to  receive  men  sent  there 
through  the  energy  of  Major  Steell.  For  the  good  work 
he  has  done  in  this  respect,  this  gentleman  deserves  the 
highest  credit,  and  he  is  a  shining  example  among  Indian 
agents. 

As  recently  as  1887  it  was  rather  unusual  to  see  a  Black- 
foot  Indian  clad  in  white  men's  clothing ;  the  only  men  who 
wore  coats  and  trousers  were  the  police  and  a  few  of  the 
chiefs  ;  to-day  it  is  quite  as  unusual  to  see  an  Indian  wearing 
a  blanket.  Not  less  striking  than  this  difference  in  thtir 
way  of  life,  is  the  change  which  has  taken  place  in  th.^ 
spirit  of  the  tribe. 

I  was  passing  through  their  reservation  in  1888,  when  the 
chiefs  asked  me  to  meet  them  in  council  and  listen  to  what 
they  had  to  say. 

I  learned  that  they  wished  to  bnve  a  message  taken  to  the 
Great  Father  in  the  East,  and  .er  satisfying  myself  that 
their  complaint  was  well  grounded,  I  promised  to  do  for 
them  what  I  could.  I  accomplished  what  they  desired, 
and  since  that  time  I  have  taken  much  active  interest  in 
this  people,  and  my  experience  with  them  has  shown  me 
very  clearly  how  much  may  be  accomplished  by  the  unaided 


294 


THE    STORY    OF    THE   THREE    TRIBES 


efforts  of  a  single  individual  who  thoroughly  understands 
the  needs  of  a  tribe  of  Indians.  During  my  annual  visits  to 
the  Llackfeet  reservation,  which  have  extended  over  two, 
tliree,  or  four  months  each  season,  I  see  a  great  many  of 
the  men  and  have  long  conversations  with  them.  They 
l)ring  their  troubles  to  me,  asking  what  they  shall  do,  and 
how  their  condition  may  be  improved.  They  tell  me  what 
things  they  want,  and  why  they  think  they  ought  to  have 
them.  I  listen,  and  talk  to  them  just  as  if  they  were  so 
many  children.  If  their  requests  are  unreasonable,  I  try 
to  explain  to  them,  step  by  step,  why  it  is  not  best  that  what 
they  desire  should  be  done,  or  tell  them  that  other  things 
which  they  ask  for  seem  proper,  and  that  I  will  do  what 
I  can  to  have  them  granted.  If  one  will  only  take  the 
pains  necessary  to  make  things  clear  to  him,  the  adult 
Indian  is  a  reasonable  being,  but  it  recjuires  patience  to 
make  him  understand  matters  which  to  a  white  man  would 
need  no  explanation.  As  an  example,  let  me  give  the  sub- 
stance of  a  conversation  had  last  autumn  with  a  leading 
man  of  the  Piegans  who  lives  on  Cut  Bank  River,  about 
twenty-five  miles  from  the  agency.     He  said  to  me  :  — 

"  We  ought  to  have  a  storehouse  over  here  on  Cut  Bank, 
so  that  we  will  not  be  obliged  each  week  to  go  over  to  the 
agency  to  get  our  food.  It  takes  us  a  day  to  go,  and  a  day 
to  come,  and  a  day  there  ;  nearly  three  days  out  of  every 
week  to  get  our  food.  AVhen  we  are  at  work  cutting  hay,  we 
cannot  afford  to  spend  so  much  time  travelling  back  and 
forth.  We  want  to  get  our  crops  in,  and  not  to  be  travelling 
about  all  the  time.  It  would  be  a  good  thing,  too,  to  have  a 
blacksmith  shop  here,  so  that  when  our  wagons  break  down, 
we  will  not  have  to  go  to  the  agency  to  get  them  mended." 

This  is  merely  the  substance  of  a  much  longer  speech, 
to  which  T  replied  by  a  series  of  questions,  something  like 
the  following  :  — 

"  Do  you  remember  talking  to  me  last  year,  and  telling  me 


THE    BLACKFOOT    OF    TO-DAY 


295 


on  this  same  spot  that  you  ought  to  have  beef  issued  to  you 
here,  and  ought  not  to  have  to  make  the  long  journey  to  the 
agency  for  your  meat?"     "Yes." 

"  And  that  I  told  you  I  agreed  with  you,  and  believed  that 
some  of  the  steers  could  just  as  well  be  killed  here  by  the 
agency  herder  and  issued  to  those  Indians  living  near  here?  " 
"Yes." 

"That  change  has  been  made,  has  it  not?  You  now  get 
your  beef  here,  don't  you?  "    "  Y'es." 

"You  know  that  the  Piegans  have  a  certain  amount  of 
money  coming  to  them  every  year,  don't  you?"     "Yes." 

"  And  that  some  of  that  money  goes  to  pay  the  expenses 
of  the  agency,  some  for  food,  some  to  pay  clerks  and  black- 
smiths, some  to  buy  mowing-machines,  wagons,  harness,  and 
rakes,  and  some  to  buy  the  cattle  which  have  been  issued  to 
you?"     "Yes." 

"  Now,  if  a  government  storehouse  were  to  be  built  over 
here,  clerks  hired  to  manage  it,  a  blacksmith  shop  built  and 
another  blacksmith  hired,  that  would  all  cost  money,  wouldn't 
it?"     "Yes." 

"  And  that  money  would  be  taken  out  of  the  money  com- 
ing next  year  to  the  Piegans,  wouldn't  it?  "     "  Yes." 

"And  if  that  money  were  spent  for  those  things,  the  people 
would  have  just  so  many  fewer  wagons,  mowing-machines, 
rakes,  and  cattle  issued  to  them  next  year,  wouldn't  they  ?  " 
"  Yes." 

"  Well,  which  would  be  best  for  the  tribe,  which  would 
you  rather  have,  a  store  and  a  blacksmith  shop  here  on  Cut 
Bank,  or  the  money  which  those  things  would  cost  in  cows 
and  farming  implements?  " 

"  I  would  prefer  that  we  should  have  the  cattle  and  the 
tools." 

"  I  think  you  are  right.  It  would  save  trouble  to  each 
man,  if  the  government  would  build  a  storehouse  for  him 
right  next  his  house,  but  it  would  be  a  waste  of  money. 


296 


THE    .^  rOKV    OF    THE    THREE    TRIBES 


i 


m 


■ 


f\ 


Many  white  men  ha'  e  to  drive  ten,  twenty,  or  thirty  miles 
to  the  store,  and  yoi  ought  not  to  complain  if  you  have  to 
do  so." 

After  this  conversation  the  man  saw  clearly  that  his  request 
was  an  unreasonable  one,  but  if  I  had  merely  told  him  that 
he  was  a  fool  to  want  a  store  on  Cut  Bank,  he  would  never 
have  been  satisfied,  for  his  experiences  were  so  limited  that 
he  could  not  have  reasoned  the  thing  out  for  himself. 

In  my  talks  with  these  people,  I  praise  those  who  have 
worked  iuird  and  lived  well  during  the  i)ast  year,  while  to 
those  who  have  been  idle  or  drunken  or  have  committed 
crimes,  I  explain  how  foolish  their  course  has  been  and  try 
to  show  them  how  impossible  it  is  for  a  man  to  be  successful 
if  he  acts  like  a  child,  and  shows  that  he  is  a  person  of  no 
sense.  A  little  quiet  talk  will  usually  demonstrate  to  them 
that  they  have  been  unwise,  and  they  make  fresh  resolutions 
and  promise  amendment.  Of  course  the  only  argument 
I  use  is  to  tell  them  that  one  course  will  be  for  their  material 
advancement,  and  is  the  way  a  white  man  would  act,  while 
the  other  will  tend  to  keep  them  always  poor. 

Some  years  ago,  the  Blackfeet  made  a  new  treaty,  by 
which  they  sold  to  the  government  a  large  portion  of  their 
lands.  By  this  treaty,  which  was  ratified  by  Congress  in 
May,  1887,  they  are  to  receive  $150,000  annually  for  a 
period  of  ten  years,  when  government  support  is  to  be 
withdrawn.  This  sum  is  a  good  deal  more  than  is  required 
for  their  subsistence,  and,  by  the  terms  of  the  treaty,  the 
surplus  over  what  is  required  for  their  food  and  clothing  is 
to  be  used  in  furnishing  to  the  Indians  farming  implements, 
seed,  live  stock,  and  such  other  things  as  will  lielp  them  to 
become  self-supporting. 

The  country  which  the  Blackfeet  inhabit  lies  just  south  of 
the  parallel  of  49°,  close  to  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
and  is  very  cold  and  dry.  Crops  can'  be  grown  there 
successfully  not  more  than  once  in  four  or  five  years,  and 


THE    BLACKFOOT    OF    TO-DAY 


297 


the  sole  products  to  be  depended  on  are  oats  and  potatoes, 
which  are  raised  only  by  means  of  irrigation.  It  is  evident, 
therefore,  that  the  Piegan  tribe  of  the  piackfeet  can  never 
become  an  agricultural  people.  Their  reservation,  however, 
is  well  adapted  to  stock-raising,  and  in  past  years  the  cattle- 
men from  far  and  from  near  have  driven  their  herds  on  to  the 
reservation  to  eat  the  Blackfoot  grass  ;  and  the  remonstrances 
of  the  Indians  have  been  entirely  disregarded.  Some  years 
ago,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  proper  occupation 
for  these  Indians  was  stock-raising.  Horses  they  already 
ha,d  in  some  numbers,  but  horses  are  not  so  good  for  them 
as  catde,  because  horses  are  more  readily  sold  than  cattle, 
and  an  Indian  is  likely  to  trade  his  horse  for  whiskey  and 
other  useless  things.  Cattle  they  are  much  less  likely  to 
part  with,  and  besides  this,  require  more  attention  than 
horses,  and  so  are  likely  to  keep  the  Indians  busy  and  to 
encourage  them  to  work. 

Within  the  past  three  or  four  years,  I  have  succeeded  in 
inducing  the  Indian  Bureau  to  employ  a  part  of  the  treaty 
money  coming  to  the  lilackfeet  in  purchasing  for  them 
cattle. 

It  was  impressed  upon  them  that  they  must  care  for  the 
cattle,  not  kill  and  eat  any  of  them,  but  keep  them  for  breed- 
ing purposes.  It  was  represented  to  them  that,  if  properly 
cared  for,  the  cattle  would  increase  each  year,  until  a  time 
might  come  when  each  Indian  would  be  the  possessor 
of  a  herd,  and  would  then  be  rich  like  the  white  cattle- 
men. 

The  severe  lesson  of  starvation  some  years  before  had  not 
failed  to  make  an  impression,  and  it  was  perhaps  owing  to 
this  terrible  experience  that  the  Piegans  did  not  eat  the 
cows  as  soon  as  they  got  them,  as  other  Indian  tribes  have 
so  often  done.  Instead  of  this,  each  man  took  the  utmost 
care  of  the  two  or  three  heifers  he  received.  Little  shelters 
and  barns  were  built  to  protect   them  during  the  winter. 


Hi 


298 


THE    STORV    OF   THE    THREE    TRIBES 


Si 


M 


.  ■ 


Indians  who  had  never  worked  before,  now  tried  to  borrow 
a  mowing-machine,  so  as  to  put  up  some  hay  for  their 
animals.  The  tribe  seemed  at  once  to  have  imbibed  the 
idea  of  property,  and  each  man  was  as  fearful  lest  some 
accident  should  happen  to  his  cows  as  any  white  man 
might  have  been.  Another  issue  of  cattle  was  made,  and 
the  result  is  that  now  there  is  hardly  an  individual  in  the 
tribe  who  is  not  the  possessor  of  one  or  more  cows.  Scarcely 
any  of  the  issued  cattle  have  been  eaten  ;  there  has  been 
almost  no  loss  from  lack  of  care ;  the  original  stock  has 
increased  and  multiplied,  and  now  the  Piegans  have  a  pretty 
fair  start  in  cattle. 

This  material  advancement  is  important  and  encouraging. 
But  richer  still  is  the  promise  for  the  future.  A  few  years 
ago,  the  Blackfeet  were  all  paupers,  dependent  on  the 
bounty  of  the  government  and  the  caprice  of  the  agent. 
Now,  they  feel  themselves  men,  are  learning  self-help  and 
self-reliance,  and  are  looking  forward  to  a  time  when  they 
shall  be  self-supporting.  If  their  improvement  should  be 
as  rapid  for  the  next  five  years  as  it  has  been  for  the  five 
preceding  1892,  a  considerable  portion  of  the  tribe  will  be 
self-supporting  at  the  date  of  expiration  of  the  treaty. 

It  is  commonly  believed  that  the  Indian  is  hopelessly 
lazy,  and  that  he  will  do  no  work  whatever.  This  mislead- 
ing notion  has  been  fostered  by  the  writings  of  many 
ignorant  people,  extending  over  a  long  period  of  time.  The 
error  had  its  origin  in  the  fact  that  the  work  which  the 
savage  Indian  does  is  quite  different  from  that  performed 
by  the  white  laborer.  But  it  is  certain  that  no  men  ever 
worked  harder  than  Indians  on  a  journey  to  war,  during 
which  they  would  march  on  foot  hundreds  of  miles,  carrying 
heavy  loads  on  their  backs,  then  have  their  fight,  or  take 
their  horses,  and  perhaps  ride  for  several  days  at  a  stretch, 
scarcely  stopping  to  eat  or  rest.  That  they  did  not  labor 
regularly  is  of  course  true,  but  when  they  did  work,  their 


i 


THE    BLACKFOOT    OF    TO-DAY 


299 


toil  was  very  much  harder  than  that  ever  performed  by  the 
white  man. 

The  Blackfeet  now  are  willing  to  work  in  the  same  way 
that  the  white  man  works.  They  appreciate,  as  well  as  any 
one,  the  fact  that  old  things  have  passed  away,  and  that 
they  must  now  adapt  themselves  to  new  surroundings. 
Therefore,  they  work  in  the  hay  fields,  tend  stock,  chop 
logs  in  the  mountains,  haul  firewood,  drive  freighting  teams, 
build  houses  and  fences,  and,  in  short,  do  pretty  much  all 
the  work  that  would  be  done  by  an  ordinary  ranchman. 
They  do  not  perform  it  so  well  as  white  men  would ;  they 
are  much  more  careless  in  their  handling  of  tools,  wagons, 
mowing-machines,  or  other  implements,  but  they  are  learn- 
ing all  the  time,  even  if  their  progress  is  slow. 

The  advance  toward  civilization  within  the  past  five  years 
is  very  remarkable  and  shows,  as  well  as  anything  could 
show,  the  adaptability  of  the  Indian.  At  the  same  time, 
I  believe  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  fateful  experience 
known  as  "  the  starvation  winter,"  the  progress  made  by 
the  Blackfeet  would  have  been  very  much  less  than  it  has 
been.  The  Indian  requires  a  bitter  lesson  to  make  him 
remember. 

But  besides  this  lesson,  which  at  so  terrible  a  cost 
demonstrated  to  him  the  necessity  of  working,  there  has 
been  another  factor  in  the  progress  of  the  Blackfoot.  If  he 
has  learned  the  lesson  of  privation  and  suffering,  the  record 
given  in  these  pages  has  shown  that  he  is  not  less  ready  to 
respond  to  encouragement,  not  less  quickened  and  sustained 
by  friendly  sympathy.  Without  such  encouragement  he 
will  not  persevere.  If  his  crops  fail  him  this  year,  he  has 
no  heart  to  plant  the  next.  A  single  failure  brings  despair. 
Yet  if  he  is  cheered  and  helped,  he  will  make  other  efforts. 
The  Blackfeet  have  been  thus  sustained ;  they  have  felt  that 
there  was  an  inducement  for  them  to  do  well,  for  some  one 
whom   they  trusted   was   interested   in   their   welfare,  was 


I- 


^  f 


I  I 


H 


III 


300 


THE    STORY    OF    THE   THREE    TRIBES 


iJ 


watching  their  progress,  and  was  trying  to  help  them.  They 
knew  that  this  person  had  no  private  interest  to  serve,  but 
wished  to  do  the  best  that  he  could  for  his  people.  Having 
an  exaggerated  idea  of  his  power  to  aid  them,  they  have 
tried  to  follow  his  advice,  so  as  to  obtain  his  good-will  and 
secure  his  aid  with  the  government.  Thus  they  have  had 
always  before  them  a  definite  object  to  strive  for. 

The  Jilackfoot  of  to-day  is  a  working  man.  He  has  a 
little  property  which  he  is  trying  to  care  for  and  wishes  to 
add  to.  With  a  little  help,  with  instruction,  and  with  en- 
couragement to  persevere,  he  will  become  in  the  next  few 
years  self-supporting,  and  a  good  citizen. 


INDEX 


Above  Persons,  259. 
Adoption  of  captives,  254. 
Adultery,  penalty  for,  220. 
Adventure,  Stories  of,  i. 
Adventures  of  Bull  Turns  Round,  24. 
Affirmation,  solemn  form  of,  188. 
Ah-kaik'-sitm-iks,  209. 
Ah-kai-yi-ko-ka '-kiit-iks,  209. 
Ah-kai'-po-kaks,  209. 
Ah-kwo'-nis-tsists,  209. 
A/tk-o'-tash-iks,  209. 
Alik-sa'-ke-\vali,  163. 
Ali'pai-tiip-iks,  209. 
Ai-sik'-stiik-iks,  209. 
Ai-sin'-o-ko-ki,  35. 
Ai'-so-yim-staii,  260. 
Alcohol,  agent  of  destruction,  287. 
Algonquin  myth,  271. 
Algonquin  tribes,  xv. 
All-are-his-children,  xv. 
All  Comrades,  219  et  seq. 
All  Crazy  Dogs,  221. 
Allen,  Major,  290. 
Ail-face  man,  276. 
Almost-a-Dog,  xiv. 
Amelanchier  alni/olia,  203. 
American  Antlu-opolpgist,  177. 
American  Hero  Myths,  256. 
Ancient  customs  dying  out,  277. 
Ancient  Times,  Stories  of,  91, 
Animals,  birth  of,  271, 

creation  of,  138. 
Animal  powers,  260. 
Animal  powers  and  signs,  261. 
Animals  to  be  food,  139,  142. 
Antelope,  method  of  taking,  236. 

song,  280. 

where  created,  138, 


Anthropologist,  American,  177. 

A' pi,  256. 

Ap'-i-kai-yiks,  209. 

Ap'i-kunni,  117  ct  seq. 

Api-su'-ahts,  99,  258. 

Ap-iit' -o-si-ktii-nah ,  209. 

Armells  Creek,  61. 

Arrows,  200. 

Assinaboines  (tribe),  82,  179,  207. 

A'-tsi-tsi,  82. 

Authority    of    "  sits    beside    him " 

woman,  217. 
A-wah-heh',  87. 

Back  fat  (of  buffalo),  34,  206. 

Creek,  13. 
Bad  Weapons,  The,  157. 
Bad  Wife,  The,  39. 
Badger,  96. 
Badger  Creek,  29,  33. 
Bags,  203. 
Basins,  201,  203. 

Battle  near  Cypress  Mountains,  245. 
Bear,  75,  96,  260. 
Bears,  The,  149. 
Beaver,  how  taken,  241. 

Creek,  201. 

Indians,  177. 

Medicine,  The,  117. 

song,  121. 
Belly  River,  71. 

Buttes,  73. 
Belt,  196,  197. 
Berries  created,  137. 
Berry  of  the  red  willow,  204. 
Big  Eagle,  249. 
Big  Nose,  XV. 
Big  Topknots,  209,  225. 

301 


r 


I,- 


302 


INDEX 


i   n 


riighorn,  where  created,  138. 

Birch  tree,  173. 

Bird,  Tliomas,  276. 

Birds  created,  137. 

Birth  of  the  animals,  271. 

Biters,  209. 

Bitter-root,  204. 

Black  Elks  (Blackfoot  gens),  208. 

(Blood  gens),  209. 
Blackfat  Roasters,  209,  225. 
Blackfeet,  13  c(  seq.,  71,  Br?,  177. 

as  known  to  the  whites,  179, 
Blackfoot,  xi,  xiii,  15. 

cosmology,  271. 

country,  boundaries  of,  143. 

Crossing,  85. 

(lenesis,  The,  137. 

in  War,  The,  242. 
Black  Doors,  209,  225. 
Black  Patched  Moccasins,  209,  225. 
Blood  (tribe),  70,  82,  177. 
Blood  People,  209,  225. 
Boiling  meat,  205. 
Bow  River,  143. 
Bowls  of  stone,  202. 
Bows,  199. 

Box  Elder  Creek,  232. 
Boys,  advice  to,  189. 
Brave  (band  of  the  1-kun-uh' -kah-tst) , 

186. 
Bravery  held  in  high  esteem,  245. 

proofs  of  required,  249. 
Braves,  duties  of,  222. 
Braves'  society,  221  et  seq.,  525. 
Brinton,  Dr.,  258. 
Brush  created,  137. 
Buckets,  201. 
Buffalo,  2$et  sei/.,  227  et  seq, 

bringing  to  camp,  232  et  seq, 

corral  of  Cheyennes,  231. 

created,  142. 

driven  over  cliffs,  232. 

Dung  (gens),  209,  225. 

eating  the  people,  140. 

hunting  disguised,  235. 

hidden,  29  et  seq. 

slaughter,  modern,  235. 

value  of  to  the  people,  227. 

surrounding,  234. 
Buffalo  Lip  Butte,  274. 


Buffalo  Rock,  The,  125,  26a. 

what  it  is,  126. 
Buffalo  song,  280. 
Bull  bats,  166. 
Bull  berries,  203. 
Bulls,  221  et  seq. 
Bulls'  society,  93, 104  et  seq. 
Buncli  of  lodges,  89. 
Burial,  193. 
Buttes  created,  137. 

Camas,  137  et  seq. 

root,  how  prepared,  204. 
Camp  arranged  in  circle,  224. 
Camp,  order  of  moving,  225. 
Canadian  mounted  police,  289. 
Casey,  Lieutenant,  xiii. 
Catchers,  221. 
Cattle  issued,  297. 
Cause  of  disease,  273,  281, 
Centre  post  of  Medicine  Lodge,  265. 
Ceremony  of  Medicine  Lodge,  263 
et  seq. 

of  unwrapping  pipe-stem,  279  et 
seq. 
Cheyennes,  245,  249,  250. 

buffalo  corral  of,  231. 
Chickadee,  162. 
Chief,  219. 
Ciiildren  in  lodge,  189. 

sports  of,  184,  198. 

training  of,  188. 
Children,  The  Lost,  xiv,  51. 
Chippeways,  244. 
Chippeweyans,  177. 
Chinook  winds,  226. 
Choke-cherries,  how  prepared,  203. 
Clark  (W.  P.),  244. 
Clay  images,  of  buffalo,  142. 

in  human  shape,  138. 
Clot  of  blood,  31. 
Clothing,  196. 

made  of  buffalo  hide,  227. 
Cold  Maker,  260. 
Confederation  of  three  tribes,  208. 
Corral  of  Cheyennes,  buffalo,  231. 
Cosmology,  Blackfoot,  271. 
Counting  coup,  245  et  seq, 

coup  at  Medicine  Lodge,  265,  267. 
Country  of  the  Blackfoot,  178. 


i 


INDRX 


303 


Coup,  191  et  seq. 
among  Ulackfeet,  248. 
different  tribes,  245. 
counting,  in  early  tinics,  117. 
"  Covering  "  the  slain,  253. 
Cowardice,  penalty  for,  220. 
Coyotes,  how  taken,  240. 
Creation,  138  et  seq. 
Creator,  256. 

Cree  (tribe),  82  et  seq.,  179,  207. 
Crimes  to  be  punished,  220. 
Crops  in  Blackfoot  country,  296. 
Crow  (tribe),  13,  179, 
Cups,  how  made,  201,  203. 
Custer,  General,  xiv. 
Customs,  ancient,  dying  out,  277. 
Customs,  Daily  Life  and,  181. 
Cut  Bank  River,  294. 
Cutting  rawhide  for  Medicine  Lodge, 

265. 
Cypress  Mountains,  245. 

Daily  Life  and  Customs,  181. 
Dance,  medicine  pipe,  281. 

young  women's,  117. 
Dawson,  Mrs.  'I'liomas,  xiv. 
Dead  return  to  life,  130. 
Death,  origin  of,  139, 
Deer,  how  taken,  240. 
Deer  Lodge,  293. 
Diet,  203. 
Disease,  281. 

Diseases  introduced  by  whites,  287. 
Dishes,  201,  203.  j 

Divorce,  218. 
Doctors,  283. 

Dog  and  the  Stick,  The,  145. 
Dogs  beasts  of  burden,  186  et  seq. 
killed  at  grave,  194. 
not  eaten,  207. 
Dogs  Naked,  208. 
Don't  Laugh  band,  223. 
Double  Runner,  vii,  xv,  223. 
Doves,  225. 

Dream  helper,  i8  ct  seq. 
originates  war  party,  250. 
person,  19  et  seq. 
Dreaming  for  power,  191  et  seq. 
Dreams,  3  et  seq.,  56,  85. 
belief  in,  263. 


Dress,  196. 

Dried  meat,  205. 

Dried  Meat  (gens),  209,  225. 

Dwelling,  198. 

Duties  of  first  wife,  217. 

Eagle  catching,  236. 

songs,  239. 

lodge,  240. 
Early  Finished  Eating,  209,  225. 

Riser,  99. 
I     wars  bloodless,  242. 
Ear-rings,  197. 

Eggs  of  waterfowl,  how  cooked,  207. 
E-i)i' -a-ke ,  221. 

E-kus'-kini,  84  et  seq.,  132  et  seq. 
Elbow  river,  143. 
Elk,  how  taken,  240. 

The,  158. 

tushes,  197. 
Elkhorn  arrow,  115. 
Elk  River,  4. 
Elopement,  215. 

E'-mi-tah-pahk-sai-yiks,  208, 
E'-mi-taks,  221. 
Esk'-sin-ai-tTip-iks,  zqi^, 
Esk'-si>t-i-tnppiks,  131. 
Ets-kiii -nail,  221. 
Everyday  life,  181  et  seq. 

Family  names,  210. 
!  Fast  of  Medicine  Lodge  woman,  265. 
;  Fast  Runners,  The,  81. 
I  Fat  Roasters,  209,  225. 
I  Feast,  invitations  to,  109. 
i  Feasting  in  the  camps,  182. 
Fighting  between   Bloods  and  Pie- 

gans,  208. 
Fire,  how  obtained,  200. 

carried,  201. 
Firs'  killing  in  war,  121. 

ma  lis,  143. 

mecicine  pipe,  116. 

people,  139. 

pis  kun,  142. 

scalping,  122. 

shelter  to  sleep  under,  142. 

stone  knives,  142. 
Fish,  207. 

hooks,  203. 


7'( 


304 


INDEX 


u 


I-  u 


Fish  spears,  203. 

Flat  Bows,  208. 

Flatheads,  179. 

Flesh  of  animals  eaten,  205. 

Fleshers,  how  made,  200. 

Flint  and  stool,  200. 

Folk-lore,  xv. 

Food  of  war  ])arty,  251. 

Forest  and  Stream^  xiii,  xiv. 

Fort  Conrad,  262. 

McLeod,  70,  73. 

Pitt,  83. 

Union,  287. 
Four  Bears,  xiv,  262. 
Fox,  The,  169. 
Fox-eye,  61  et  scq. 
l-'rogs,  207. 

l'"iingiis  for  punk,  201. 
Fur  animals,  how  caught,  240. 
Future  life,  273-275. 

Gambling,  183  et  scq. 
Game,  hidden,  145. 

in  Blackfoot  countrv,  226. 
Game  played  by  iirairie  dogs,  171. 
Genesis,  The  Blackfoot,  137. 
Gentes  of  the  Blackfeet,  208. 

Bloods,  209. 

Kai'nah,  209. 

Piegans,  209,  210. 

Pi-kun'i,  209,  210. 

Sik'si-kau,  208. 

now  extinct,  224. 
Ghost,  72. 

bear,  75. 

country,  128. 

\Voman,HeavyCollaran  IThe,  70. 
Ghosts,  273-281. 
Cihosts'  Buffalo,  The,  132. 
Gliosts,  camp  of  the,  128. 
Girls,  carefully  guarded,  216. 

instructed,  1^0. 

outfit  for  marriage,  212,  214. 
Girl  stolen,  215. 
Gown  of  women,  196. 
Grasshoppers,  207. 
Grease  on  red  willow  hark,  1^6. 
Great  Bear  (constellation),  66,  in. 

Falls,  63. 
Grizzly  Bear,  67,  90. 


Grooved  arrow  shafts,  200. 
Gros  Ventres,  207,  244. 
Ground  Man,  259  et  scq. 
Ground  Man  (of  Cheyennes),  260. 
Ground  Persons,  259. 

Hair,  care  of,  197. 

mode  of  weiring,  197. 
Handles  of  knives,  200. 
"  Hands,"  184. 
Havs  of  antelope  skin,  241. 
Head  chief,  how  chosen,  219. 
Heavy  Collar,  70  et  scq. 

and  the  Ghost  \\'oman,  70. 

Runner,  xv. 
Help  from  animals,  141. 
Hill  where  Old  Man  sleeps,  143. 
Horned  toad,  276. 
Horns,  221. 
Horses  cause  of  war,  242. 

killed  at  grave,  193. 

when  obtained,  177,  186. 
How  the  Blackfoot  li^ed,  196. 
Hunting,  226  et  scq. 

alone  ])unished,  220. 
Husljand's   personal   rights  in  wife, 
217. 

power  over  wife,  216. 

property  rights  in  wife,  217. 

I-kun-ii/i'-ka/i-tsi,  69,  80,  93,  104,  186, 
219,  et  scq. 

origin  of,  104  ct  seq. 
Implements  of  the  dead,  132  ct  seq. 

made  of  buffalo  hide,  227. 
In  lian  a  man,  xii. 

sign  language,  244. 

♦oJ);',cci.-.  124,  268,  et  scq. 
Indians  and  their  Stories,  ix. 

Beaver,  177. 

general  ignorance  about,  x. 
Infants  lost,  187. 

I-itis'-kii)i,  125  et  scq.,  133  ef  scq.,  229. 
Ir-ii/ik'-so-yi-sfaiii-i/^s,  209. 
I-u Ilk-si  '-kah-ko-pwa-iks,  209. 
I-nuks'-iks,  209. 
Invitation  to  feasts,  109. 
r-pok-si-iiniiks,  209. 
1-sis  '-o-kiis-im-iks,  209. 
I-so-kin'-uh-kin,  284. 


INDEX 


305 


vife, 


186. 


?'/• 


22'J. 


/s'-siii,  221. 
Is-ti-kai-nah,  209, 
"  It  felJ  on  them"  creek,  61. 
It-se'-wah,  183. 

Jackson,  William,  xiv,  232. 

Kah'-mi-taiks,  209. 
Kai'-nah,  vii,  208  et  seq, 
Kalispels,  204. 
Kettles  of  stone,  202. 
Kill  Close  By,  210,  225, 
Kipp,  Joseph,  249. 
Kit-fox,  III. 
Kit-fox  (society),  93. 
Kit-foxes,  221,  225. 
Ki-yis,  209. 
Ktiats-o-mi-ta,  221. 
Knives  of  stone,  200. 
Ko-ko-mik'-e-is,  99,  258. 
Kom-in'-a-kus,  88. 
Ksik-si-num  ,  256. 
Kuk-kiiiks' ,  221. 
Kut'-ai-im-iks,  209. 
Kut-ai-sot' -si-man,  209. 
Kutenais,  179. 
Kut-o'-yis,  29  et  srq. 

Ladles  of  horn,  203. 

of  wood,  202. 
Lari  puk'us,  223. 
Lesser  Slave  Lake,  177. 
L'herbe,  183. 
Liars,  208. 

Life  among  the  Blackfeet,  xiii. 
Little  Birds,  221,  222. 
Little  Blackfoot,  vii. 
"  Little  Slaves,"  218. 
Lizards,  207. 
Lodge  for  dreaming,  192. 

of  stone,  114. 
Lodges,  ancient,  187. 

how  made,  198  et  seq. 

decoration  of,  199. 

of  chiefs  of  the  I-kun-uk'-kah-tsi, 
224. 
Lone  Eaters,  209,  225. 

Fighters,  209,  225. 

Medicine  Person,  xv. 
Long  Tail  Lodge  Poles,  209. 
Lost  Children,  The,  xiv,  51. 


Lost  Woman,  The,  13. 
Low  Horn,  84,  86. 

Mad  Wolf,  vii. 
Maker,  the,  138. 
Mandans,  287. 
Man-eater,  37. 
Many  Children,  209. 
Lodge  Poles,  209. 
Horses,  209. 

Medicines,  208,  210,  225. 
March  of  the  camp,  i86. 

of  war  party,  251. 
Marriage,  girl's  outfit  for,  212,  214. 
how  arranged,  211. 
of  important  people,  211. 
poorer  people,  214. 
prerequisites  for,  211. 
prohibited  within  gens,  211. 
Ma-stoh' -pah-ta-kiks,  no,  221. 
Material  advancement,  298. 
Mats,  204. 
Mauls,  163. 

how  made,  200. 
Measles,  287. 
Medicine  leggings,  167. 
I  Medicine  Lodge,  the,  xiv,  190  et  seq., 
219,  260  etseq.,  263  et  seq. 
man,  17,  276  et  seq. 
Pipes  and  Healing,  276. 
rock  of  the  Marias,  262. 
woman,  190  et  seq. 
Mexico,  255. 
Mi-ali-wah ' -pit-si ks,  209. 
Afi-aw'-kin-ai-yiks,  209. 
Mik-a'pi,  61  et  seq. 
Miles,  General,  xiv. 
Milk  River,  21,  22,  137,  263, 
Missouri  River,  41. 
Mis-tai' ,  273. 
Moccasins,  196. 
J\fo-kuin'-iks,  210. 
Monroe,  Hugh,  xiv,  235,  241,  255. 

John,  xiv,  238. 
Morning  Star,  99, 
Mosquitoes,  221,  222,  225. 
Mo-tah'-tos-iks,  208,  210. 
Mother-in-law,  meeting,  195. 

not  to  be  spoken  to,  195. 
Mo-tzvai'-naiks,  210. 


3o6 


INDEX 


Mountains  created,  137. 
Mourning,  16,  40,  47. 

chant,  194. 

for  the  dead,  194. 
Muddy  River,  21. 
Murder,  penalty  for,  220. 
Musselshell  River,  232. 
Atat'-siks,  III,  221. 

A'a-ahks',  210. 

Nai-ai',  280. 

Name,  changing,  194. 

unwillingness  to  speak,  194. 
Namp'-ski,  276. 
Na'-pi,  138,  256  et  seq. 
Nat-os' ,  258  et  seq, 
Nat-o'-ye,  loi,  260. 
Na-wuh'-to-ski,  268. 
Necklaces,  T97. 
New  Mexico,  255. 
Night  red  light,  99. 
Ni-kis'-ta,  210. 
Nimp'-sa,  210. 
Ni'-nak,  106,  210,  256. 
Ni-namp' -skan,  276  et  seq. 
Nin'-nah,  276. 
Nin'-sta,  210. 
Ni-po-mtik-i,  162. 
Nis'-ak,  vii,  210. 
Ni-sis'-ah,  210. 
Nis-kum'-iks,  271. 
Nis-kun' ,  210. 
Nis-t&m-o' ,  210. 
Nis-ttim-o'-kun,  210. 
Nit'-ak-os-kit-si-pup-iks,  209. 
Ni-taw'-yiks,  209. 
Nit'-ik-skiks,  209. 
Nit-o-ke' -mati ,  210. 
N i-tot' -o-ke-man ,  210. 
Nl-tot' -sl-ksis-stan-iks,  210. 
Nits'-i-san,  277. 
Nits-o'-kan,  263. 
A'i-tun' ,  210. 
No  parfleche,  209,  225. 
jVo-ko'-i,  210. 
No'-tna,  210, 
North  Bloods,  209. 
North,  Major,  247. 
North  Saskatchewan  River,  177. 
Northwest  Territories,  289. 


Number  of  wives,  215,  ai8. 

Oath,  Indian,  188. 
Obstinate  (gens),  209,  225. 
Office  not  hereditary,  219. 
Ojibwas,  XV. 
Ok-wi-tok-so-ka,  202. 
Old  Man,  135  et  seq.,  256, 

and  the  Lynx,  171. 

character  of,  257. 

disappearance  of,  257. 

Doctors,  159. 

known  to  other  tribes,  257. 

makes  first  weapons,  140. 

makes  fire  sticks,  141. 

sleeps,  hill  where,  143. 

Stories  of,  135  et  seq. 
Old  Man's  predictions,  257. 

River,  70. 

Sliding  Ground,  143. 
Origin  of  the  I-kun-ii/i'-ka/i-tsi,  104. 

medicine  pipe,  113. 

worm  pipe,  127. 
Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  xv. 
Other  game,  240. 
Owl  Bear,  3. 

Owls  ghosts  of  medicine  men,  275. 
Owner's  seat  in  lodge,  199. 

Paints,  203. 

Parfleche  soles  of  moccasins,  196. 
Past  and  the  Present,  The,  177. 
Pawnee  coups,  247  et  seq. 

Hero  Stories  and  Folk  Tales,  xi, 
81,  234. 
Pawnees,  245,  247  et  seq. 
Peace  with  Gros  Ventres  broken,  244, 

the  Snakes,  The,  3. 
Pemmican,  206,  207. 
Penalty  for  adultery,  220. 

for  cowardice,  220, 

for  murder,  220. 

for  theft,  220. 

for  treachery,  220. 
Penances,  259, 
Pend  d'Oreille,  63. 
People  created,  138  et  seq. 
Phrynosoma,  276. 
Physical  characteristics,  197. 
Pictographs  of  coups,  249, 


INDEX 


307 


Piegans,  3  et  seq.,  209, 
Pi-kun'i,  vii,  xiii,  61,  68, 177,  209,  225, 
Pi-niit-u'-ye  is-tsiin -o-kan,  vii. 
Pipe  dance,  medicine,  278  et  seq. 

of  the  Soldier  Society,  223. 

stems,  276  et  seq. 
Pipes,  material  of,  188. 
Pis'kun,  32  et  seq.,  57,  228  et  seq, 

etymology  of,  228. 

bringing  buffalo  to,  229. 

how  constructed,  229. 

of  the  Blackfeet,  230. 

of  the  Crees,  230. 

of  the  Sik'-si-kau,  230. 
Pis-tsi-ko'-an,  108. 
Places  chosen  for  dreaming,  192. 
Plants,  medical  properties  of,  139. 
Plunder  from'  the  south,  255. 
Pomme  blanche,  205. 
Pottery,  202. 
Power,  dreaming  for,  191. 

of  herbs,  139. 

to  bring  on  storms,  263, 
Powers,  animal,  260. 
Prayers,  263. 

in  sweat  house,  282. 

to  the  Thunder,  278. 
Preparations  for  burial,  193. 

for  dreaming,  191  et  seq. 

for  the  attack,  252. 

for  war  parties,  251. 
Presents  to  husband  from  father-in- 
law,  213. 

to  the  sun,  258. 
Product  of  the  buffalo,  227, 
Property  buried  with  dead,  193. 

of  Brave  Society,  223. 

of  deceased,  disposition  of,  218, 
Psoralea  escitlenta,  205. 
Puk-ksi-nah  '-mah-yiks,  208. 
Puk'-sah-tchis,  163. 
Punishment  for  hunting  .ilone,  220. 

for  infidelity,  216. 

for  stealing  tobacco,  271, 
Punk,  201. 
Pun'-o-tst-hyo,  260. 
Purification  by  smoke,  279, 

Quarrels  between  the  three  tribes, 
208. 


Rabid  Wolf,  xv. 

wolves,  283. 
Rabies,  cure  for,  283. 
Race,  the,  155. 

Raven  Band  of  the  I-Mn-uh' -kah-isi, 
no. 

Bearers,  93,  221,  225. 

Carriers,  no. 
Ravens,  no,  114. 
Red  Deer's  River,  85,  143. 

Eagle,  xiv. 

Old  Man,  61  et  seq. 

River  half-breeds,  232. 

Round  Robes,  210,  225. 
Religion,  256  et  seq. 
River,  Badger,  29,  33. 

Belly,  71, 

Big,  41. 

Bow,  143. 

Elbow,  143, 

Elk,  4. 

Milk,  21,  22,  137,  263. 

Missouri,  41. 

Muddy,  21. 

North  Saskatchewan,  177. 

Old  Man's,  70. 

Peace,  177, 

person,  64. 

Red  Deer's,  85. 

Saskatchewan,  70,  83,  177,  178. 

St.  Mary's,  71. 

Teton,  21,  137. 

Yellowstone,  4,  177,  178. 
Roasting  meat,  205. 
Robes,  197. 
Rock,  The,  165. 
Root-digger,  145. 
Ross,  Miss  Cora  M.,  xiv. 
Round,  88. 
Running  Rabbit,  xv. 
Russell,  WilHam,  xiv. 

Sacks,  203. 

Sacred  bundles,  where  kept,  276. 

Sacred  objects,  262. 

things  connected  with  eagle  catch- 
ing, 238. 
Sacrifice,  3. 
Sacrifices  to  sun,  258,  259. 

of  war  party,  251. 


3o8 


INDEX 


k  i 


Sai'-yiks,  208. 

Sak-si-iiah ' -mah-yiks,  209. 

Salt,  207. 

Sand  Hills,  44  et  si-q.,  62  et  seq.,  94  et 

seq.,  127  et  seq.,  132. 
Sarcecs,  85  ct  si-q. 
Saivis  berries,  203. 

Berry  Creek,  86. 
Saskatclieuan  River,  70,  83,  177,  178. 
Saskatoon  Creek,  86. 
Scarface,  93  et  seq. 
Schultz,  J.  \\'.,  xiii,  xiv,  277,  279,  284. 
Scout  ot  war  jiarty,  251. 
Screech  Owl,  82  et  seq. 
Seats  in  lodge,  199. 
Secret  helper,  17,  263. 
Seeking  the  Sun's  Lodge,  94. 

Thunder's  Lodge,  113. 
Seldom  Lonesonie,  209,  225. 
Self-torturings   in   Medicine   Lodge, 

267. 
Servants,  219. 
Seven  Persons,  66. 
Seven  Persons  Creek,  70. 
Shadow,  273. 
Slielter  for  war  party,  232. 

to  sleep  under,  142. 
Shepherdia  iV\^entea.  203. 
Short  Bows,  209. 
Sign  language,  6. 
Signs,  64. 

Signs  and  powers  of  animals,  261. 
Sik  -o-kit-sim-iks,  209. 
Sik-n-pok' -si-maiks,  209. 
Sik'-si-kau,  vii,  71,  208. 
Hiks-a/i  '-piiii-iks,  209. 
Siks-i/i'-o-kciks  (Blackfoot),  208. 

(Blood),  209. 
Sik-ut'-si-puni-aiks,  209. 
Siti'-o-fia/t,  221,  222,  262. 
Sioux,  287. 

"  Sits  beside  liim  "  woman,  215,  217. 
Skeleton,  71. 
Skidi  tribe,  249. 
Skull  taken  into  eagle  pit,  238. 
Skunks,  209,  225. 
Slee])ing  for  jiower,  141. 
Small  Brittle  Fat,  209,  225, 
Small  Leggings,  vii. 

Robes,  209,  225. 


Smallpox,  287. 
Smell  of  a  person,  129. 
Smoking,  rules  in,  187. 
Snakes,  207. 

Snakes  (tribe),  3  et  seq.,  13,  19,  43  et 
seq.,  179. 

Peace  with,  The,  3. 
Snares,  79. 

Social  organization,  208. 
Societies  of  the  All  Comrades,  221  et 

seq. 
Soldiers,  221,  225. 
Song,  antelope,  280. 

beaver,  121. 

buffalo,  280. 

pipe,  281. 

war  party,  251. 
Soul,  273. 

.Spill' -yit  ksah'-kit,  255. 
Spanish  lands,  255. 
Spear  heads,  200. 
Spears,  200. 
Sjioons,  202. 
Sports  of  children,  184,  198. 

of  adults,  183  et  seq. 
Spotted  Tail's  camp,  248. 
St.  Mary's  River,  71. 
Sta-aii' ,  273. 

Starvation  winter,  289  et  seq. 
Steell,  Major,  289,  21)3. 
Stockraising,  297. 
Stolen  by  the  Thunder,  113. 
Stone  bowls,  202. 

kettles,  202. 

knives,  200. 

pointed  arrows,  228. 
.Stoii'-i-tdpi,  27. 
Stories  of  Adventure,  i. 

of  .'\ncient  Times,  91. 

of  Old  Man,  135. 
Story  of  the  Three  Tribes,  The,  175. 
Story-telling,  185. 
Striped-face,  96,  97. 
Struck  by  the  Thunder,  113. 
Stii'iiiiks,  221  et  seq. 
Suicide  among  girls,  216. 
Sun,  43  et  seq.,  94  et  seq.,  258  el  seq. 
Sun  dogs,  64. 
Sun  River,  35. 
Sun's  Lodge,  168,  258. 


! 


INDFA' 


309 


Sun's  Lodge,  seeking  the,  94. 
Surrounding  buffalo,  234. 
Su'-ye-slii'-niiks,  53, 
Su'-ye-tuppi,  25,  192. 
Su-yoh-pak  '-im/i-ku,  85, 
Sweat  bath,  282. 
Sweat  lodge,  26. 

houses  for  Medicine  Lodge,  265. 
Sueet-giass,  279  et  s,-q. 
Sweet  Grass  Hills,  137. 
Swindling  the  Indians,  ix. 

Tail-feathers-coniing-in-sight-over- 

the-Hill,  244. 
Tails,  221. 
Talting  liorses,  253. 
Temperament,  181. 
Teton  River,  21,  137. 
The  Bad  Weapons,  157. 
Bears,  149. 

Beaver  Medicine,  117. 
Blackfoot  Genesis,  137. 
Blackfoot  in  War,  242. 
Buffalo  Rock,  125. 
Dog  and  the  Stick,  145. 
Elk,  158. 
Fox,  169. 

Ghosts'  Buffalo,  132. 
Past  and  the  Present,  177. 
Race,  155. 
Rock,  165. 

Theft  from  the  Sun,  167. 
Wonderful  Bird,  153. 
Theft  from  the  Sun,  Tlie,  167. 

penalty  for,  220. 
They  Don't  Laugh,  209,  225. 
Things  sacred  to  the  Sun,  258. 
Three  Tribes,  The  Story  of,  175. 
Thunder,  113  et  scq.,  259. 
bird,  82. 
described,  259. 
brings  the  rain,  116,  277. 
steals  women,  113. 
Tobacco,  Indians',  268. 

songs,  270. 
Tobacco  thief  punished,  271. 
Tongues  for  Medicine  Lodge,  264. 
Touchwood  Hills,  201. 
Training  of  children,  188. 
Transmigration  of  souls,  275. 


Trapping  wolves,  79. 
Treachery,  penalty  for,  220, 
Treatment  of  dead  enemies,  254. 

of  women,  216. 
Trial  by  jumping,  161. 
Trivelt,  Rev.  S.,  276. 
Tsin-ik-tsis'-tio-yiks,  209. 
Tsi-stlks' ,  221. 
Tuis-kis'tU's,  221. 
Turtles,  207. 

Two  Medicine  (Lodge  Creek),  vii, 
29,  33- 

War  Trails,  82. 

Under  Water  People,  25,  192. 

Persons,  259. 
Uses  of  buffalo  products,  227. 

Version  of  the  origin  of  death,  272. 
Visitor's  seat  in  lodge,  199. 

War  bonnet,  82. 
bonnet  of  Bulls  Society,  223. 
clubs,  how  made,  200. 
head-dress,  82. 
journeys,  duration  of,  254. 
journeys  to  the  southwest,  255. 
lodges,  3. 

lodges,  how  built,  252. 
systematized,  243. 
with  tiie  Gros  Ventres,  245. 
War  parties,  3  et  sey.,  39,  83,  251. 
Warrior's  outfit,  contributions  to,  250. 
Whiskey  trading,  288. 
White  beaver,  119. 
Breasts,  209,  225. 
Calf,  XV,  223. 
Widows,  218. 

Wife,  standing  of,  216  et  seq. 
duties  of  first,  217. 
The  Bad,  39. 
Wind  Maker,  259. 

Sucker,  35. 
Wolf  Calf,  XV,  202,  217,  237. 
Tail,  XV,  24  et  seq.,  120  et  seq. 
Man,  The,  78  et  seq. 
Road,  102. 
song,  261. 
Wolverine,  97. 
\\'olves,  240. 


n 


13  )i 


I 


^1 


310 

Wolves,  rabid,  283. 
Woman  doctors,  286. 
Woman,  standing  of,  216. 

The  Lost,  13,  18. 
Woman's  dress,  196. 

seat  in  lodge,  199. 
Wonderful  Bird,  The,  153. 
Wood  for  bows,  199. 
Woods  Bloods,  209. 


INDEX 


Worm  People,  209,  225. 

Pipe,  127  et  seq. 
Worms,  207. 

Yellowstone  River,  4. 
Young  Bear  Chief,  xv,  223. 

women's  dance,  117. 
Younger  sisters  potential  wives,  217. 


Typography  by  J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


Presswork  by  Berwick  &  Smith,  Boston,  U.S.A. 


Blackfoot  and    Pawnee 


CHARLES   SCKIIiNER'S   SONS,    PUBLISHERS 


Two  books  giving  tlie  stories  current  among  these  Indian 
triJK-s  and  accounts  of  their  custonis  and  daily  life,  by  Gf.orge 
HiRI)   Grinnkll. 


THE  BLACKFEET 

Blaci<foot  Lodge  Tales.      The  Story  of  a  Prairie  People.     By 
CJkorgk  Bird  Grin.ni-;i.l.     Cr.  8vo,  $1.75. 

In  this  volume  tlie  story  of  the  Blackfoot  tribe  is  told  by  a 
friend,  one  who  has  hunted  with  lliem  on  the  prairies,  slept  in 
their  lodges,  lived  in  their  camps,  and  shared  their  daily  life. 
In  this  close  everyday  intercourse,  extending  over  years,  he 
lias  gained  the  friendship  and  confidence  of  their  aged  and 
wise  men,  who  have  revealed  to  him  much  of  the  secret  history 
of  the  tribe— that  lore  whicii  is  known  to  but  few  of  the  oldest 
men  and  by  them  jealously  guarded.  The  stories  which  con- 
stitute this  history  have  been  taken  down  by  the  author  from 
the  lips  of  the  narrators,  and  are  given  without  change  as  told 
to  him. 

There  is  a  singular  and  charming  freshness  about  the  stories, 
which  give  the  history  of  renowned  warriors  of  ancient  and 
modern  times,  show  how  ancient  customs  arose,  and  exphiin 
natural  phenomena.  They  treat  of  love  and  war,  magic  and 
mysteiy,  and  of  the  deeds  of  the  Blackfoot  Creator  in  ancient 
times,  when  he  lived  upon  the  earth  and  mingled  familiarly 
with  the  people  he  had  made. 


BLACK  FOOT  AXD   PAWXEE 


S.     I 


In  their  simplicity  and  tlieir  intjeiiiouMicss,  the  tales  .sel 
forth  clearly  the  cliaracter  of  the  Black  feet  people,  ami  the 
motives  which  governed  their  daily  life.  It  is  a  novel  idea  to 
put  the  Indian  on  the  witness  stand  and  let  him  tell  how  he 
lives — what  he  does  and  why  he  does  it.  Many  writers  have 
given  us  their  views  on  these  subjects — from  the  standpoint  of 
civilization — but  Mr.  (Irinnell  is  the  first  one  to  transcribe  the 
Indian's  tales  without  in  any  respect  coloring  them,  and  so  to 
permit  the  savage  to  speak  for  himself,  to  tell  his  own  story 
and  give  his  point  of  view. 

(^uitc  apart  from  the  interest  attaching  to  these  relations  as 
Indian  stories  is  the  literary  flavor  wliich  they  jiossess.  Many 
of  them  are  full  of  jioetry  and  romance,  and  show  high  mo- 
tives and  sentiments  worthy  of  admiration.  When  we  con- 
sider that  the  stories  are  told  by  savages,  it  must  be  confessed 
that  these  people  are  entitled  to  an  intellectual  standing  higher 
than  has  been  accorded  tiiem. 

The  account  of  the  daily  life,  customs,  and  history  of  the 
Llackfeet  ]iresents  a  series  of  graphic  pictures  of  savage  life  in 
jieace  and  in  war,  and  throws  a  flood  of  light  on  the  ways  of 
the  tribe  to-day  and  on  ancient  customs  which  have  now 
passed  out  of  existence. 

Ct^NTENTS 
Indians  anu  Theik  Stokies 


Stories  of  Adventure.-  The 
Pence  with  the  Snakes.  1  he  Lost 
W'oiiKin.  Adve'iitures  of  Hull- 
Turns-Knund.  Kut'/yis.  (he  H.id 
Wile.  The  Lost  Childroii.  Mik- 
a'pi — Red  Old  l\Lin.  Heavy  Coll.Tr 
and  the  Cihost  Woman.  1  he  Wolf 
Man.  Tlie  Fast  Runners.  Two 
War  Trails. 

Stories  of  Ancient  Times. — 

Scarfacc.  Origin  of  the  I-kun-uh' 
katsi.  Origin  of  the  Medicine  I'ijie. 
The  lieaver  .\Iedi;inf .  The  liiiffalo 
Rock.  Origin  of  thi  Worm  Pipe. 
The  Ghost's  BuiT?  lo. 


Stories  of  Old  Man. — Tlie 
niackfoot  Genesis.  The  1  )oi;  and 
the  Stick.  Tlie  Dears.  Tlie  Woii- 
tierful  liird.  The  Race.  The  liad 
Weapons.  The  Klk.  Old  ^L1^ 
Doctors.  The  Rock.  The  Theft 
from  the  Sun.  The  Fo,\.  Old  Man 
and  the  Lynx. 

The  Story  of  the  Three 
Tribes.  The  Past  ami  the  I'lcs- 
cut.  Daily  Life  and  Cusloms. 
How  the  I'llackfoot  Lived.  Social 
Organization.  Hunting.  The 
niackfoot  in  War,  Religion. 
Medicine  Pipes  and  Healing.  The 
Blackfoot  of  To-day. 


BLACKFOOT  AXD  PAIVN'EE 


THE  PAWNEES 

Pawnee  Hero  Stories  and  Folk-Tales.  With  notes  on  the 
Origin,  Customs  and  Character  of  the  Pawnee  people.  By 
Ge:ouok  Bird  Gkinnf.i.i,.     Illustrated.     Cr.  8vo,  $1.75. 

Twenty  years  ago,  when  the  Pawnees  still  lived  in  their  dirt 
lodges  and  followed  the  buffalo,  the  author  camped  with  them 
for  many  months  and  at  that  time  was  greatly  interested  by  the 
stories  that  he  listened  to  about  the  lodge  fires  and  on  the 
march.  Many  of  these  were  written  out  at  the  time,  and  in 
after  years  the  collection  was  enlarged  so  as  to  form  the  present 
volume.  The  stories  which  it  gives  were  all  taken  down  from 
the  lips  of  the  Indian  narrators  and  are  literally  translated  into 
simple  English.  They  present  Pawnee  life  as  the  Indian 
himself  sees  and  knows  it. 

There  is  mother  wit  in  these  Indian  stories  and  they  are  ex- 
tremely entertaining  in  themselves — simply  as  stories.  Many 
of  them  are  singularly  well  balanced  as  to  plot  and  movement, 
and  might  serve  as  models  for  the  short  story  writer  of  to  day. 
They  are  just  as  truly  Indian  stories  as  those  given  in  the 
Blackfoot  Lodge  Tales,  yet  it  is  curious  to  observe  how  dif- 
ferent in  character  they  are  from  those. 

The  account  of  Pawnee  customs,  and  history,  is  drawn  from 
the  author's  long  acquaintance  with  the  tribe,  and  shows  the 
daily  life  before  association  with  the  whites  had  modified  their 
habits. 


CONTENTS 


Hero  Stories. — Comanche 
Chief,  the  I'tMce-.M^iker.  Lone 
Chief,  Slcur'-a-ia  I.e'-Shar.  The 
Prisoners  of  Court  House  Rock. 
Wolves  in  the  Nii»lit.  A  Leader 
of  SoldiL-rs.  A  Cheyenne  Blanket. 
Little  Warrior's  Counsel.  A 
Comanche  nimdle. 

Folk-Tales.— The  Dun  Horse. 
A  Story  of  Kaith.  The  Rear  Man. 
The  Ghost  Wife.     Ti-ke-wa-kush, 


the  Man  who  Called  the  RiifTalo. 
Pa-hu-ka'-ta-wa.  The  lioy  Who 
Was  Sacrificed.  The  Snake 
Hrother.  O're-ka-rahr.  The 
Ghost  Hride.  The  Hoy  Who  Saw 
A-li'-us.  How  the  Deer  Lost  His 
Gall.     Yellow  Fox. 

Notes  on  the  Pawnees. —  The 
Pcnvitivs :  L  Relationships.  IL 
Origin  and  Migrations.  IIL  The 
Skidi.      IV.    Name  and   Emblem. 


BLACK  FOOT  AND   PAWNEE 


Li 


Pmviife  Ciisti'ins  :  I.  Karly  Days. 
II.  Kvery-<lay  Life.  III.  A  Siiin- 
mer  Hum.  I  hi- I\i",viifc  in  War: 
1.  Enemies  and  Methods  ol  War- 
fare. 11.  Pa'-iii  I.e-^li,ir  and  Hi& 
Scouts.      III.    War   I'anics.      /u'- 


li^ii'ii  :  I.  Helirfs.  II.  Coreiud- 
nics.  III.  Medicine  and  Mysleiv. 
Later  History  :  I.  Kcmoval  Id 
the  Indian  Territory.  II,  Present 
Condition  and  Progress. 


IS: 


CRITICAL   NOTICES 

New  York  Tribune.— .-V  collection  of  decided  value  and  original  flavor. 

Literary  World.  — It  will  ^oon  be  inipossihlo  to  distinKlli^h  the  re.Tl 
tlKuacteristio  of  the  early  liulian  trihes  ;  it  i<i  siirprisliiu  how  little  truM- 
worthy  kiiowleijge  we  possess  of  their  hahits  and  modes  <if  life— oflin 
pictnre-quely  e\p'es-ive  as  they  were.  Whoever  rescues  from  fin.d  for 
Hetliilne-s  any  siiflicient  material  for  serious  consideration  and  slndy, 
renders  good  service  to  his  kind.  Mr.  (jrinnell  has  ilone  more  in  this 
direction  than  any  other  recent  writer.  He  i;ives  lis  direct  evidenos, 
salient,  clear,  and  intrinsically  vahnMe.  In  looking  at  his  presentation  of 
the  red  man,  we  .ire  ready  to  drop  the  epithet  which  so  little  describes 
him,  ami  see  only  man — a  little  difl'ercnl,  but  scarcely  more  c^r  less  than 
ourselves. 

Chicago  InterOcean. —  The  American  Indian  is  the  wisest  .iiul 
shrewdest  and  most  m.inly  of  all  the  unlettered  people  on  the  globe.  This 
collection  shows  that  with  his  herojsni  and  cunniiig  he  has  wisdom  and 
soul.     The  volume  is  cbarmiii};  ii])oii  every  page. 

New  York  Times.— The  poetic  element  is  rarely  wanting',  and  the 
heroic  in  thi'  w.ir  siory  is  never  absent. 

Boston  Herald. — The  volume  is  very  entertaining  and  also  very 
welcome. 

Philadelphia  Press.  —  noes  more  than  admirably  report  the  lore  of  a 
single  tribe  of  Indians.  It  is  really  a  most  inteicstiii'4  history  of  the 
Pawnees  There  is  abundance  of  poetry  in  these  folk-tales  .and  a  reniark- 
.iblc  dramatic  jiower  th.it  togetb.er  enchain  the  interest  of  the  curious 
reader. 

New  York  Sun.— .A  valuable  contribution  to  American  ethnology. 

American  Anthropologist.  — His  story  of  "A  Summer  Hunt"  is  a 
most  graphic  picture  ol  the  old-time  buffalo  hunt,  now  a  memory  of  the 
past,  and  nothing  sn  good  in  its  line  has  appeareil  since  Parkham  gave  us 
his  "  Californui  and  Oregon  Trail." 

Hartford  Courant.— In  these  stories  we  find  examples  of  self-sacrifice, 
gratitude,  honor,  and  curiously  enough,  an  idea  of  the  alonemint  tor  sin. 
an  intermediate  stale,  and  communication  beiwi'en  this  and  the  invisible 
world. 

Magazine  of  American  History.  -Their  stories  aliound  witli  humor, 
pathos  and  sentiment.     The  author  has  jierlormed  a  valuable  service. 

Springfield  Republican.— The  folktales  :ue  full  of  magic  transforma- 
tions ami  mystery,  and  they  are  related  with  ;i  strong  feeling  for  dramatic 
effect  and  often  with  much  poetic  grace. 

Literary  News.— The  book  is  well  illustrated  and  its  make-up  artistic. 


IV 


